


if you can't fix it...you'll go insane

by Adri_James



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Frottage, I didn't want to spoil anything though, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mad Max AU, Mild Gore, NONE OF THIS IS CANON, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tags will be added, a lot of sand, how many times can I say sand and ship, the Mad Max au nobody asked for, weird lizard monsters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-07 17:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adri_James/pseuds/Adri_James
Summary: Steve Rogers remembers that the world was not always fire and death. He unwillingly finds himself in the company of new and familiar faces on a road to set things back the way they were...but sometimes hope is a mistake.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I made a joke about writing this AU back in...2015? At the time it was not this. But after seeing Infinity War, I got inspired, watched Mad Max: Fury Road again, started this.
> 
> It's been A LOT of fun. It's also been a lot of fun teasing Olivia and Jhenee with it. They're my biggest fans so a big shout-out to both of them. (I hope the teasing is everything you've hoped for). It is going to be three chapters but I don't know when they'll be updated. 
> 
> Be patient with me, I am but a scrub.
> 
>  
> 
> Come talk to me on  Tumblr 

With a snap and a cry the universe cried out…and half of it ceased to be. Those who survived wished for the end. It became only The Beginning. Madness spread. And what changed next no one knows. What ceased to exist existed once more. In a blink a new reality. 

Fire. Fire and death is what the world became.

And the Man with the Shield is cursed with remembering.

 

 

 

Steve Rogers opens his eyes and they’re still there. The faces. He scrubs them away. Still there. Still whispering. Screaming. He flinches, head twitching to the side. Only the wind. Only the voices.

The world was harsher than it had ever been. Food is whatever he can find. Water…is if he dares venture into any buildings. His hair and beard had overgrown, matted with dirt and blood, his skin damaged and tanned from the sun. Even his eyes had become hard and unrecognizable. It wouldn’t matter. No one would recognize him anymore. How long had it been? How long since the world became nothing more than dust and sun? Fire and blood and nightmares that haunted even the sanest of men. Steve couldn’t remember. But he remembered their faces. The voices that all cried out and then—stop. Perhaps it was not the wind. But the roar of a machine, ever encroaching.

They’d been trailing him a few days now.

The very little he has is wrapped in a pack and tucked behind the shield he has slung across his back. Steve mounts his motorbike and speeds off through the desert. It isn’t far behind that several vehicles pursue him, the riders hollering and hooting.

Steve speeds forward, the dust stinging his eyes. He almost misses the two motorbikes that appear from just over the ridge, flanking either side of him. The blood thunders in his ears. He hears the click of the harpoon firing before it hits the sand in front of him, veering his bike to the right as a second gun clicks.

Everything whites out.

His skin burns where he skidded across the sand, head pounding and ears ringing, the hollering sounding far away though he knows they’re close. The roar of their engines disorients him as he tries to collect himself for a fight, five or six pinning him down as they bind his wrists. Some look human. But under the layers there’s no way to tell. His bike is a mangled mess, the second harpoon still hooked in the front of his wheel. The rope binding his wrists is quickly attached to the back of one of their vehicles, his captors leaping back into their transports, Steve’s head clearing enough to know he doesn’t have a fighting chance. For now.

From the right the sun sets just beyond the jutting ridge of canyon, painting the sky a rich red that bleeds into pale pinks and blues. South. They’re taking him south. His captor’s keep a grueling pace, forcing Steve to run behind them or be dragged through sand and rock. The jeer what Steve can only imagine are slurs. He can’t understand them, it’s no spoken language he’s ever heard before.

 

 

 

Earth had ceased to be. The world became one. One reality. The one that made most sense in the mind and aftermath of all that came to be. Utter madness and chaos. A dead land of nothing green. A universe collapsed upon itself.

Those that remained were scattered remnants of life. 

Friend or foe became irrelevant quickly when food was sparse and Lady Death reigned supreme. At her helm was the Titan—in all his madness—his vision no longer one of peace… Survival. It was all any tyrant truly wanted. The proof to survive. A showing of Worth. What Worth has a life that cannot Survive on its own.

And Thanos believed himself the most worthy.

That was why strength became the Titan’s greatest fear. From the half that carried on rang out a cry of retaliation.

The new reality came to be. One of Fire and Death. The slaughter of Friend and Foe. A cry of retaliation that was silenced.

 

 

But only just.

 

 

The miles stretched on. Steve’s legs ached to the point of numbness as the night dragged on. The chilling shrieks of his captors become dull to his senses. They approach the mouth of the canyon, passing through a great stone tunnel as the sweet pink hues of dawn peek over the horizon. The tunnel leads to a glittering fortress, surrounded on all sides by mountain and stone. Finally…the transport comes to a stop, Steve collapsing with exhaustion. 

Hands grasp and pull, unbinding and dragging him forward, his surroundings becoming a solid blur. They take what little Steve has. His shield is ripped from his back though Steve may struggle against it. A swift kick is all it takes to make him cease. There is a stench of death and rot in the tunnels Steve is dragged through, many bodies shoving past. Some look human. Most he can’t tell. The one’s in cages are sobbing. Many stink of blood.

They bring him into an open chamber where dozens of figures fill the room, hollering and hooting, chanting some kind of war cry. Steve’s thrown to the floor. There’s a central figure, much larger than many of the others, observing the chaos from where they’re seated a few heads above them. Steve shifts, attempting to look up, one of his captors kicking him swiftly in the ribs. Shrill jeers and shouts fill the room as the group that brought him in stomps on him, Steve gritting his teeth, waiting for an opening when it all abruptly stops.

Silence fills the room save for Steve’s heavy breathing. The voice that breaks it is rich and deep, sending a chill up Steve’s spine.

“And what is it you have brought me?”

A hand grips Steve’s matted hair as his head is lifted, neck strained from the angle it’s pulled back. Steve grits his teeth, breathing evenly through his nose, eyes still dry and burning with lack of sleep and too much sand.

He cannot remember the face before him. Though he feels as though he might. His body tenses with a disconcerting anger as the massive purple alien regards him with a smirk that feels as condescending as it looks. The screams in his head all sound at once and Steve grinds his teeth.

“This one has strength,” the alien chuckles, not moving from his leisurely stance on the throne. “It should be shared.”

The others in the room surge upon him, dragging him out despite his struggles and shouts. He’s taken deep into the bowels of the stronghold. They gag him, arms and legs pinned by three men each, Steve snorting heavily through his nose. Stubborn rage is no friend to him here. His hair is cut and his beard is shaved to nothing more than stubble. 

A tall and pale creature with dead blue eyes comes to observe him. Steve bucks and grunts at the invasive poking and prodding of the alien man.

“A curiosity is this one,” the man drawls, his hand gripping Steve’s jaw like a vice. “Human. But not entirely…or perhaps something more?” Steve hisses at him through his teeth. The ugly creature smiles. “Label him properly. The sickly will find great strength from the blood of this man. He will become a Child soon enough.”

Steve’s re-pinned on his stomach, shirt pushed up round his neck. The pain in his back is searing. The machine whirs, the needle piercing his skin, tattooing unknown words into his flesh. The artist works in a meticulous manner. Steve’s pain matters not to him. His eyes are drawn to the one working by the fire, his breath stilling as an iron hot brand is pulled from the flames. Steve’s muscles draw tense and--

Ah. Their restraints have gone lax.

Steve kicks his legs out first, pushing himself up, pulling one arm loose and then the next. Those that lunge for him first are thrown towards the fire. The others begin to flank him, surging towards him, Steve forcing a way through.

_“Rogers…this way…”_

A ghostly woman slips into the passage just ahead, Steve rushing towards it. He tears the gag from his mouth. The shouts and hollers echo after him. There is a body around every corner, charging towards him, Steve ramming through them.

_“Steve--”_

_“Cap!”_

_“Where are you going, Steve?”_

Steve pants with every sprint. The whispers are screaming at him now, Steve hesitating in shock as the faces leap towards him. Bodies leap towards him as well. Steve fights them off. His fists make contact with flesh and bone, the smell of blood growing thicker in the air. The tunnel ahead is filled with water, Steve waist deep and splashing through, his pursuers now coming from behind and ahead. Above is a grate, Steve leaping for it and pulling manically at the bars. They grip at his feet and Steve kicks them away.

The ghostly visage leans down from above to stare at Steve through the bars. Steve stares back in alarm. He knows this face. More than anyone.

_“You let me die, Stevie.”_

His grip fails and gravity takes over, Steve’s fall broken by several bodies and a pool of water. He cannot fall here. Steve pushes himself up as more of their men spill into the water after him. With all his strength he shoves them aside.

The tunnel is clear. Still they chase him. Steve can feel the heat of the desert, can smell the sun. There are doors just ahead.

_“You let us die, Steve. You let us die. You let us die! You LET US DIE!”_

Steve kicks the doors open. He’s met with the face of the canyon, Steve regaining his balance before falling to his doom. The sun is blinding. And the fortress—towers of gold. Steve knows them. He cocks his head. He knows them.

The first few that catch up Steve throws to their death. He will fight. He will fight as long as there is breath in his lungs, he will not become a tool of any man or monster.

A chain glints in the sun. It hangs down from a thin rafter above. Steve can make it. It’s just there out of grasp, he only has to leap. 

Steve throws off all of them he can and jumps. The chain is in his grip. He swings forward, the arms at the mouth of the tunnel reaching desperately for him, Steve swinging back. They grasp him. Steve kicks off who he can, swinging forward once more but as he swings back their grip is stronger. He holds fast to the chain, their jeers and shouts echoing in his ears. Steve yells back. The chain slips from his hands. They pull him in and he’s lost in a sea of bodies, the doors closing behind them.

 

 

**

 

 

The Man in the Mask strides confidently forward. The sun catches on the metal of his right arm, hair hanging loose over his goggles and mask. He’s greeted by the war cries of his brothers in arms. A filthy, pitiful lot of man and alien alike who mindlessly follow the word of a madman. The man who killed the world. But the Man remembers. His mind is no longer tricked into thoughts so easily.

A convoy of ships and vehicles are prepared. The Man in the Mask takes command of the ship at the helm. No one joins him in the cabin.

He’s done this before. They trust him. They have no reason to suspect.

He is not afraid of Death.

The drums sound a steady beat, the men shouting with their rhythm. They wait in heated anticipation. The Man leans forward, resting on the wheel, staring up at the face of the canyon. There is a balcony sliced into the stone, curtains billowing from its entrance. It is there that they will see Him. Their Lord and commander.

A horn sounds and the rhythmic hoots break into excited cries. The first to step out is a tall spindly creature, skin so pale it’s almost ashen—the Ebony Maw. As intelligent as he was psychotic. A self-righteous disciple whose dedication—from a distance—was sickening. The next was a goblin-esque creature with graying skin and heavy armor, the ever present glaive in its hand. Corvus Glaive—the Titan’s right hand man. Immortal, from what the Man had heard. A nasty and violent piece of work.

“Children of Thanos,” the Maw says, folding his hands together. “Rejoice. For you are to be blessed with the word of our Leader.”

The curtain parts and out steps a massive purple skinned alien. He’s as broad as he is tall, dressed in glittering armor, a golden gauntlet adorning his left hand. The crowd erupts into cheers.

Thanos—the Titan. 

Standing above the rest of the world to deliver his Divine Intervention. 

The Man did not feel the mindless excitement as the others did. His mind was not so easily ensnared. There were those who always seemed to believe, loyal to a fault. Some were not as persuaded. There’s a ghost of an ache in his back. One from many days of being persuaded. Persuasion here took many forms. And in a world where survival fell onto the trust of a madman…

“On this day,” Thanos shouts, voice echoing in the canyon. “I send my trusted scavengers to the remains of the Sanctuary, to bring back supplies for you, my children, that we may keep our strength. That my vision of peace may hold true.” His brothers cheer, the Man tightening his grip on the wheel. “Go now, and return to me, my children. May your way be clear and should Death find you, may you enter Her embrace.” The mindless cheers continue, Thanos disappearing behind the curtain, Corvus and the Maw following behind him. 

Engines start. A symphony of machines. The convoy of crafts pull off with the Man in the Mask leading them, a soldier flanking each side and three small ships on his tail. The craft he drove was the largest, a gutted cargo ship that was fortified like a tank. There were four men that rode on top of the craft he drove. They pass through the tunnel that led out of the canyon, the open space of the desert spread before them.

No turning back now.

There was a time when the world wasn’t sand and sun. The horizon spreads as far as the eye can see. To the South was the Sanctuary. The downed war vessel that had housed Thanos’ armies. There was no way to question things that always seemed to be. But it was a strange sensation—the Knowing. Knowing that things weren’t what they seemed. Knowing all that had happened before the world was reborn anew.

To the South was the Sanctuary. And to the East… To the East was hope. 

The Man takes a breath. This was the only chance they’d ever have. He didn’t fear Death. He feared what would happen if they didn’t die. But his hands were stained with blood. From his past and his now, forever used as a tool by more powerful people, but that didn’t have to define him. If in all the Realities the universe had to offer he was nothing more than battle fodder than the greatest feat would be to prove it wrong. He jerks the controls to the left, steering off the road and into the desert, taking a path less travelled.

The three smaller ships behind him follow quickly, the rest of the convoy having to turn to follow. He hears the shouts of the confused men.

“Sir!” the pale face of his second in command comes to the entrance of the cabin. “Are we not going to the Sanctuary?”

The Man acknowledges him but doesn’t speak. He can’t think of what to say. The other tries to catch his eye, the tension in his stomach drawing tight.

“Sir?”

“We’re heading East,” he says. His second gives him a hesitant look before giving a curt nod.

“I’ll pass it down the line.”

 

 

 

The Ebony Maw finds Thanos observing the younglings. This batch’s modifications have been coming along nicely…though some look worse for wear. A few are certainly dead. He’s showing favor to a young Shi’ar girl whose dark hair hangs loose in her face, her eyes glazed over with a distant look. She seems to barely notice Thanos’ thumb beneath her chin, tilting her head this way and that. What the Maw assumes is her fallen foe lays in a crumpled pile of limbs and torn flesh behind her. The Ebony Maw steps forward. His hands are folded in front of him, waiting patiently for Thanos to acknowledge his presence.

The Titan regards him. “You have news?”

“My Lord,” the Maw bows deeply before him. “It would seem your supply ships have taken a detour. One into more—hostile lands.”

Thanos tilts his head in interest. He follows the Maw back upstairs to the balcony overlooking his fortress. His child offers the Looking Glass, Thanos following the road, looking further east into the sands where the small supply convoy is heading. He draws back with a frown.

“What reason would he have to wander so far from the guiding path?”

He looks to his Gauntlet, the Reality slowly dawning upon him. Three. He still had three left. It cannot be. The Maw is pushed aside as Thanos retreats towards his private chambers. Deep into the halls he strides, coming to a great stone door that can only be locked from the outside. The Titan pulls it open and is greeted by--

Silence.

It drifts throughout the many rooms. The treasures and gifts he bestowed upon them are still scattered about. Their beds are unmade. But there is no hushed tones or whispers, no tinkling of laughter amongst his most prized children.

The ones he’d locked away for their own protection.

“Little One?” Thanos calls, searching through the empty rooms. “Where are you hiding?” There is no answer. “Gamora!”

Thanos stands in the center of the silent room, fists clenched as he looks around fruitlessly. It cannot be. They could not have slipped away so easily. Thanos lifts his eyes to the walls.

Above the only door their message is written:

‘WE ARE NOT YOUR CHILDREN. WE ARE NOT THE SPOILS OF WAR.’

 

 

 

Steve lifts his head towards the ceiling. His hands are bound behind his back and a metal muzzle has been placed on him. He’s certain his belongings have either been burned or distributed among the mass of feral beasts that call this labyrinthian shithole home. A steady beat of drums echoes somewhere above, rattling the chain of his cage. Steve snorts.

“I’ve got an Earthling running on empty.”

The guard sitting below scans the cages, his eyes resting on Steve. Steve glares at him through the muzzle.

“Hook up the big one. Ought to keep him going a few more weeks at most.”

The floor drops from beneath Steve, the chain around his ankles keeping him from falling fully onto the ground below. He snarls. The guard sticks him with an electric rod, shocking him, Steve shouting and seizing up.

A hook is dug into his shoulder, a body dragged underneath him and slung across the rock.

The drums are getting louder.

Clint Barton sits immobile against the stone, a needle and tube hooked into his arm. His hair’s been shaved short, his skin a sickly white and his body too thin and lithe to look functional. He stirs from his lethargic state as fighters scurry by, talking indiscernibly. Their mouths move too fast for Barton to read what they’re saying. He reaches for those closest to him.

“What’s going on?” he asks, getting no answer. “What’s happened?”

“Treason!” a passing soldier cries. “A scavenger gone rogue.”

“Who?”

“A scavenger! He’s stolen an Infinity Stone! Made off towards the East!”

Barton leans back, taking in the words, pushing himself to his feet. His legs tremble like a newborn fawn’s. The guard doesn’t spare him a glance. “Sit down, boy. You aren’t going anywhere like you are.”

“We are all children of Thanos. We all must serve him.”

“You plan to drive and fight on those feeble legs?” the guard asks, mocking. He pinches where there should be meat in Clint’s arm. “You’re practically a corpse. Skin so thin you could peel it back with a butter knife.”

“I can fight!” Barton shouts.

Two gray skinned creatures stop on their way from the armory, jeering at Clint. “You’re running on borrowed blood, Earthling,” one says. Barton narrowing his eyes. “You’ll barely be able to lift a cannon.”

“You know what’s East, don’t you?” the other adds. “Hostiles. Man-eaters. Creatures that swim in the sand and can crawl clear up canyon walls.”

“The beasts will pick their teeth with his bones.”

“Look at his blood bag. It looks feral.”

“That’s right,” Barton sneers, drawing himself to his full height. “I’m filled with feral blood.” Clint smashes his head against the alien’s skull, knocking him to the ground. The alien leaps to its feet. It towers over Barton, growling in his face. Clint holds his ground. The creature breaks into a grin and laughs ugly through his nose, nodding at the guard.

“I’ll hook up the blood bag, then.” Steve tilts his head. “Let’s hope it keeps the lad on his feet.”

Clint reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his old hearing aid. He’d modified it many days ago. Here’s hoping it still worked.

 

 

 

Two flares shoot up from the northwest. The Man in the Mask catches a glimpse of them in the mirror. Anxiety settles in the pit of his stomach. So it begins. The Man keeps it at full speed and keeps one eye on the sand dunes. This path was less travelled for a reason.

“Sir!” His second leaps down from his perch, leaning through the window. “Flares from the fortress. What is this? Backup? A decoy?”

“A shortcut,” the Man growls. He maintains his speed.

There are shouts amongst the men. His second leans away from the window, the Man casually reaching beside his seat where his closest gun is stored. He doesn’t grab it. His second chatters with the others too quickly for him to understand. 

“The men say there’s a pursuit party. A dozen ships or more.” There’s an uneasy pause. “What reason have they to pursue us? Is this some sort of test? A drill?”

He doesn’t answer. What answer has he to give? He’s no sellout. He’s a man of his word…though his word often came at the price of blood. More flares shoot up, the Man lifting his head to look, quickly adjusting his gaze as his second beadily observes him. It didn’t take long for the Titan to organize a pursuit. They’d be on top of them soon.

“What have you done?”

There isn’t a moment of hesitation before the man’s hand is on his throat, shrieking again, “ _What have you done?!_ ”

The blast whizzes past the Man’s ear, making it ring, his second in command taking the hit in the face and limply dropping off the side of the ship. The grip on his throat is released. The Man takes a full breath, turning to find his passenger seat has been filled, the lithe man dragging his long legs up and over the center console. He keeps the cannon on his shoulder, leaning back in the seat casually. A dark scarf is pulled up and over his nose.

“I told you to stay in the hatch,” the Man says, pulling a gun of his own.

“You’re welcome.”

He stands, shooting one of the men from the top of the ship just as he reaches the cabin. The second one catches them by surprise. His spear juts forward, the passenger grabbing the shaft and using the momentum to fling the man over the front of the ship. He tosses his hair back with a flourish, throwing the spear out the window.

There are shouts from the other ships now, a steady hum and cloud of dust signaling the pursuit party’s approach. A scream from the right flank is cut short as a reptilian sail disappears into the sand. The men exchange a glance.

“I guess this is where things get more difficult?”

“They weren’t already?” the other asks. The Man would smirk if his mask wasn’t hiding it.

“Well,” a short, furry creature crawls up the center console and stands between the two of them, crossing his arms. He has a pointed muzzle and dark fur resembling a mask. His ringed tail flicks irritably. “If this ain’t a load of shit.”

“You have a complaint?”

The creature grimaces at the passenger. “Yeah. Several. The first being that we have a fucking pursuit party already after us and I didn’t get to bring my stuff!” The passenger rolls his eyes, cocking his gun and positioning himself at the window. “The second being that it stinks down there.”

“The only thing that smelled was you.”

“Oh,” the creature mocks. “Prissy princess here is used to washing up every day and can’t handle a little man smell.” He spits, turning to the passenger with a sneer. “Well forgive me, your highness, for being covered in fur and trapped in the fortress from hell without a means of scrubbing myself clean as often as the rest of you’s.”

“Rocket.”

“What?!”

A giant lizard rams into the side of their ship. The Man pushes Rocket’s head down and ducks as far out of the way as he can just as the beast’s jaws come snapping through the window. It’s scales are dark, speckled with tans and golds, it’s 3-inch claws digging into the side of the ship. The sail on its back is a thin, veiny membrane that looks almost red in the sun. Rocket shouts indiscernibly as the passenger takes a shot, hitting the monster in the shoulder and knocking it off their ship.

“Damn,” he huffs. “I missed.”

Rocket sits back up, the Man regaining control of the wheel.

“You missed? What the hell do you mean you missed?”

The Man hands the cannon in his lap to Rocket. “Aim for their eyes.”

“They?! There’s more than one of those things?”

“Why do you think I told you to stay in the hatch?”

Rocket growls and cocks his gun. “You better give me your arm after this, Barnes, you owe me big time.”

The hollers and hoots are all around them. Ships flank them on either side, theirs just pulling ahead. 

“We’ve got incoming,” the passenger says.

There’s about half a dozen, not including the rest of the original convoy. That meant another half-dozen were still on their way. They're chanting 'traitor.' Rocket climbs up to lean out of the skylight, blasting away at anything that moved. The other man takes his time aiming his shots, taking out the drivers.

Several soldiers jump onto the back of the cargo ship and make their way forward. Rocket turns with a growl and a sneer, shooting them off one by one. One throws a spear that goes clear over Rocket and through the skylight, hitting the center console. Rocket shoots him off with a laugh. His ears fall back when one of the lizard monsters leaps onto the back of the ship, staring him down before charging. Rocket shoots three times, walking backwards, missing each shot. He yells, sprinting for the skylight and leaping down into the cabin, the monster following after him. The passenger spears it through the throat, flinging it up and over the side.

Rocket scoffs. “Well, I could’ve done that!” He leans out the window behind the Man and continues gunning down the other ships.

One of the speeders starts gaining to get in front of them. The Man keeps his speed, even as they pull up ahead. The passenger shoots, misses, Rocket busy with another ship trying to gain on them.

“Give back what you’ve taken, Earth-scum!” one of them shouts. “Or we’ll tear apart your corpse to find it!”

The Man frowns, the other shooting down the speaker. He ought to pull back, catch them off guard, but they’d already have an advantage. They shoot at them, both men having to duck down. The passenger straightens up between shots, taking a shot and swearing. A miss. He checks the ammo count on his cannon. The Man swallows. He pulls a small blaster out of his boot and sits up, aiming and taking out a man, missing the rest. They take aim, the Man ready to duck when one of the lizards leaps onto the speeder with a hiss, the speeder spinning out of control and out of the way. The men’s screams are swallowed by the distance. Rocket snorts.

“At least these things aren’t biased.”

“I’m sure if they had to choose you’d be the more manageable,” the other man says.

“Hey, fuck you, man.”

The passenger leans out of the window, aiming at the small speeder with four or five of the Titan’s children that was closest to them. His first shot misses. He curses under his breath, aiming again, and hitting right through the front hood. The engine blows, engulfing them in flames. The Man grabs the other’s arm and yanks him inside, one of the monsters breaching the sand and snapping just where his head had been.

They exchange a look, the other man raising his brow. “What? Would you like a kiss?”

“You can kiss him later!” Rocket snaps, shooting one of the lizards running alongside the ship. It yelps and dives back into the sand. “Dammit! I’m out.”

One of the soldiers jumps down onto the hood of their car. The passenger takes aim, narrowing his eyes, holding his position. The Man glances at him and back at the soldier, who’s yelling and raising the weapon above his head.

“Shoot! Shoot him!” Rocket yells, reloading his cannon. “What are you waiting for, you--”

There’s a shriek and a splatter of blood, the Man having to jerk the wheel steady as one of the monsters leaps onto the hood and snatches up the soldier into its jaws. The beast shakes its head, body still clenched tightly in its jaws, more blood splattering. It bites down, severing the body in half, the rest slipping off the hood.

“Oh, that was gross,” Rocket says.

The lizard turns towards them with a low bellow, still swallowing down what remains it had in its mouth. The passenger shoots. He hits square in one of the eyes, the creature howling, the man taking another shot and blowing off its lower jaw, and another through the head. The body follows its victim’s and slips off the hood to be lost to the desert.

Rocket looks at the man, waiting until his gun is lowered before he says, “Man…you’re kind of psychotic, huh?”

“I’m out,” he announces, tossing the cannon into the backseat. Rocket snorts.

The Man looks the passenger over. There’s blood splattered on the parts of his face still visible and a good portion in his hair. He pulls a rag out of his pocket, handing it to the man. He nods and wipes at his face. Rocket sits on the console between them, gun on his shoulder.

“I’ve got about twenty good shots left if there’s any jackasses left once those over-sized iguanas get through with them.”

There’s a harmony of bellows, several reptilian sails slipping down beneath the sands in directions opposite of the cargo ship. The Man frowns. The passenger pinches his brow, rag in his hair, turning to the Man. That was too ominous then. The Man ducks his head, squinting out into the desert to see what could’ve scared the creatures off. Some of the ships that were pursuing them had started to slow down. Others—from the trails of dust behind them—were still on their way.

“Well, that was weird. I hope that’s just for any reason other than something bigger that might try and eat us.”

“Rocket.” The Man stares ahead at the horizon where the wind has picked up and the sky has turned an ominous black. “Both of you get back in the hatch.”

 

 

 

Steve growls and spits through his muzzle. The speeder they were in sat two, Barton driving and Steve sitting passenger, his hands bound behind him. The chain on the back of his muzzle extends to a cuff around Barton’s wrist. He knows his face. But not from where. It doesn’t matter. When he breaks free of these damned chains he’ll snap every neck that stands in his way. 

The wind and sand whip his face. A third body stands on the back of the speeder, hooting and hollering with the other vehicles surrounding them. They’ve caught up to a smaller party of speeders and ships. The one pulling ahead is the largest.

“There’s the scavenger! The one driving the cargo ship,” the alien on their stern shouts. “The Earthling in the mask!”

Screams carry over the roars of the engines. Steve watches as a monstrous lizard jumps onto one of the speeders, tearing its occupants to ribbons and gathering what meat there is to claim. It dives back into the sand, its sail disappearing beneath the surface. The empty speeder loses control, barreling towards them, Barton steering out of the way just in time.

“Watch for their fins,” the alien says. “You’ll see those and it’ll be the last thing you see. Less you’re still breathing when you slide down its gullet.”

There are nearly a dozen ships and speeders around them, all with men and aliens chanting in unison, shooting at the large tank-like cargo ship. A barrage of shots is coming from the ship, Barton pulling back. One of the ships ahead of them slams into the other. Barton threads the needle, maneuvering around them and pushing forward.

Several soldiers leap onto the back of the cargo ship, one by one being shot off. Barton guides the speeder around to the right. Every time the alien on the back takes a shot it whizzes past Steve’s head, Steve gritting his teeth. He was going to kill him first.

Barton speeds up. The wind whistles in Steve’s ears. Steve pulls at the bindings on his wrists, teeth grinding. There’s an explosion, one of the ships ahead bursting into flames, Barton unable to avoid it. The fire licks at them, Barton slamming the brakes.

“What are you doing?” the alien shrieks.

Clint doesn’t even give him a glance. “I pull back. Go around to the left. Give you a clear shot of the traitor. You take his head, we take the ship.”

Steve doesn’t like this plan. Steve hates this plan. He pulls desperately at his restraints, breathing deeply through his nose.

_“This way, Steve.”_

He blinks, flinching. Trying to will it away.

The speeder tips forward, one of the beasts leaping onto the front of it. It lowers the sail on its back, turning towards them with a hiss, more eyes than Steve expected staring at him. His blood runs cold. The creature lowers its haunches, jaws opening with a nasty clicking sound.

All the voices in his head scream in unison.

Two shots singe his scalp, the creature howling and slipping off the speeder. Once the ringing in his ears has stopped and his heart has slowed the anger catches up to him.

“That’s my head!” Steve yells.

He swears the alien bastard chuckles.

It’s cut off when another of the monsters leaps onto their hood. Its claws dig into the frame where a windshield ought to be. The beast hisses, the sail on its back flaring up, its neck reeling back--

The lizard turns its head. It stares in the direction their heading, making an odd clicking noise before leaping back off their hood, disappearing with the flick of a massive tail. The shot comes too late, the beast already gone.

The alien still cheers. “Something’s scared it off!”

There’s a low bellowing sound, the reptilian sails veering off and slipping down beneath the sand. Steve squints ahead, the wind picking up. A huge wall of sand lies on the horizon. He could smell the heat of the storm. His heart skips a beat. He struggles against his restraints, gritting his teeth.

Barton laughs maniacally. “He thinks he can lose us! He thinks we won’t follow him!” he yells, still laughing. Clint turns to the alien and grins. “We’ll slice the traitor from belly to foot! We’ll bring back his skin for a trophy!”

“That’s the spirit, Earthling!”

“Crazy bastards,” Steve spits. “We’ll be shredded in that! Are you listening? Hey!”

His pleas fall on empty ears.

Lightening streaks the blackened skies. The blast of wind nearly flips the speeder over. There’s a larger ship ahead speeding towards the cargo ship. One of the aliens shouts something, the others chanting him on, the alien leaping towards the ship and getting swept up by the wind. He tumbles on the ground before smacking head-on to their speeder, Steve ducking his head as the body blows over him.

There’s a deafening rumble, the world shaking. A large vortex settles on the ground. Its winds so powerful that Steve can see the chunks of earth it pulls up into its hungry maw. Steve’s heart is pounding. He closes his eyes. No. He can’t. He opens them. The faces are always waiting. The ship pursuing the cargo vessel keeps forward, the vortex encroaching, the aliens left all chanting, Barton and the one behind them chanting along.

With an ear-splitting crack and a surge of light the ship ahead of them bursts into flames. Steve can smell the metal of the lightening. The ship is pulled into the mouth of the vortex, the wreckage, fire, and men spinning out of sight.

The cargo ship shows no signs of slowing…neither does Barton.

“Better close the top!” the alien yells over the wind. “What do we do with him?” He asks, nodding in Steve’s direction.

“Fasten him to the back of my seat!”

The alien steps behind Steve and gives him an ugly grin. He squats down behind him and sets his gun down. He loosens his restraints, Steve letting out a heavy sigh. Should’ve put the gun to his head. Steve grabs the back of the alien’s head, slamming it against the front console with an angry crunch. Clint barely gives him a second look, focusing on the storm, reaching beneath his seat. The alien gets to his feet, Steve easily blocking his blows, the gun getting kicked out of reach. Steve slams his head into the alien’s—already covered in blood—and kicks him off the back of the speeder.

He turns back towards the driver.

Barton jabs an electric rod into his side, Steve seizing and collapsing onto the floor. His vision goes spotty. Clint keeps the hood down and retakes his seat, keeping forward. The dust and wind licks at them like sandpaper. The cargo ship is nearly in their range.

“Oh, what a day! What a glorious day!” Clint grins. He pulls his goggles on, slamming the accelerator forward.

Steve rolls over with a groan.

The speeder pulls up alongside the craft. Barton sets the speeder on cruise, pulling out a crossbow. Steve pushes himself to his knees. Over the scream of the wind, the voices whisper, growing ever louder. He didn’t plan on dying today. Not chained to this lunatic. The cabin of the cargo ship is in sight, the Man in the Mask turning to face them. The storm rages around them. Steve looks up and catches a glimpse of the Man. He pinches his brow. Strange.

Clint lines up his shot. Steve surges forward and grips the controls, jerking the wheel. They slam into the side of the ship and spin out, the wind picking them up and rolling them. There’s a moment just before Steve is thrown from the speeder where he reaches for his back—

They’d stolen it though. The shield is gone.

Steve is tossed helplessly by the wind, the weight of the other man chained to him, jerking him around as well. He sees the flash of lightening and then it all goes dark.

 

 

**

 

 

The storm has settled. A new layer of sand rests across the desert. There’s a shift, a slow awakening, Steve Rogers springing back to life with a gasp and a flinch. He blinks, his vision slowly coming back. Alive. Despite the crazy bastard…he’s still alive.

Steve gets to his feet. There’s wreckage all around him. The craft didn’t survive then. Steve shakes himself clean of sand, his neck pinching and the chain on the back of his muzzle catching. Right. The body must be around here somewhere. 

He hisses with relief as he pulls the hook from his neck, his blood now his own, grabbing the chain and pulling. Steve follows the chain to the majority of the wreckage where an arm is sticking up out of the sand. Steve tugs harder but the arm doesn’t budge. Still attached then. Couldn’t make this easy. Steve pulls the man out of the sand, cocking his head. 

The man looked older now that Steve got a look at him. Not terribly old. Just older. His dark blonde hair was cut short, a few scars littered his face. None of this was terribly helpful. Some people were easier to place than others. It didn’t matter. Steve pulls at the shackle on the man’s wrist, shaking it and tossing the arm when it doesn’t pull free.

_“Where are you, Steve?”_

Steve shakes his head. He grunts, digging around in the wreckage for something he can use. There’s what looks like a shotgun a few feet away. It looks alien, no way of knowing if it’s loaded. Steve sighs. He picks up the man’s arm, pressing the barrel of the gun just below the shackle. Steve takes a deep breath. This was survival. It was him or Steve. There was no guarantee the man wouldn’t try and kill him the moment he came to.

He pulls the trigger.

The gun clicks.

Nothing.

Steve grunts. He shakes the gun—as if that were somehow going to help—letting out a frustrated sigh.

_“This way, Rogers.”_

There’s an engine running. Steve frowns, squinting at the horizon. Something is there…

Ah. The ship from before. The one they were following. Steve looks at the gun in his hand. Hm. There’s no telling how armed the driver was. But if Steve caught him off guard…

Then again wouldn’t want those lizards after him.

Steve slings the slighter man over his shoulders. He sweeps a large arch through the sand to approach the ship from behind on the passenger side. His stomach was clenching up. There was no way of knowing if the driver had a gun. If he did it wouldn’t matter—if he shot first, if he pulled a gun—Steve would be dead.

The Man in the Mask bangs the side of the ship to clear it of sand. He couldn’t hear anything above the low hum of the engine and his heartbeat in his ears. There was no clear angle on where the Man was positioned. Steve closes his eyes. 

This was insane.

It would be more insane to go back.

Steve comes around the back of the ship, gun raised. He hears the sound of water first, his lips and throat aching. There are four more people than Steve expected to see. Three are women. One looks human. She’s young, with long, dark auburn hair and an assortment of necklaces dangling around her neck. Two are alien…but not the same species. One is completely bald with blue skin and all black eyes. She’s supporting the arm of a green skinned woman with dark purple hair. The fourth is a man, Steve is pretty sure. A thin slip of a man whose face is covered with a black cloth, significantly taller than the women. The young woman is holding a hose that the man is using to clean off his pale arms. The two others are doing the same.

Water splashes into the sand. Steve licks his chapped lips. Loud. That sounded too loud. He holds his breath and waits. The Man in the Mask hasn’t noticed him yet. None of them have. And the Man doesn’t have a gun. He’s been using some kind of wrench.

Steve tosses the body on the ground. The four startle, the youngest dropping the hose. Steve has his weapon raised, aimed mainly at the Man in the Mask, though he has to keep his eye on the other four now as well. Steve’s goal was to take the ship and he was placing all his cards on a gun that didn’t work. This was an insane bluff to make.

His eye keeps catching on the water that gushes out of the hose. The Man in the Mask shifts, Steve grunting and aiming the gun between his eyes. He motions for him to lose the weapon. The Man tosses his wrench away. The younger woman stares at him wide eyed, eyes flickering to the man and other women, clearly waiting for a sign. The two women hold fast to each other, the green skinned woman looking to the driver. The blue skinned woman has fire in his eyes. 

_“What are you doing, Steve?”_

Steve flinches. He swipes an arm across his brow, jolting when one of them moves. The other man. Steve aims the gun straight at him. He straightens up, glaring Steve down the barrel of the gun. His eyes travel from Steve to the chain, following it down to the unconscious man Steve was still attached to. Steve grunts, getting his attention. The tall man narrows his eyes. He watches him in a way Steve can only describe as predatory. 

He was calling Steve’s bluff. 

Steve glances at the water. He motions towards the hose with the gun, keeping it raised, his voice coming out as a dry rasp.

“Water.”

Water begins pooling at his feet. The five of them stare Steve down, Steve keeping the broken shotgun level enough that it maintains its threat. No one else has moved. He points at the hose again. 

“Water.”

The man turns his head to look at the Man in the Mask. He re-faces Steve, motioning for the women to stay, stepping slowly towards the hose. As thin as the man looked he was tall and there was a look to him that made Steve’s stomach clench. He’d rip out Steve’s throat with his teeth if given the chance. Steve tightens his grip on the gun.

“No.” The man stops. Steve motions for him to move away, the man stepping back, Steve scanning the others. He pauses on the youngest. Steve points the gun towards her, the girl’s eyes growing even wider.

“You,” he grunts.

She looks pleadingly towards the other man. He nods at her, eyes glued to Steve. The woman reaches for the hose, slowly approaching Steve. The water cascades down her arms. Her feet—like the others—are bare. She hesitates as she reaches him, her eyes scanning the horizon, sucking in a frightened breath.

A low roar of engines. A deadly pursuit still in the chasing.

The woman holds the hose out. Every fiber in her seems to be trying not to flinch. Steve snatches it, motioning for her to turn around. She glares weakly at him but does what he says. The rest of them are just watching. The Man in the Mask still has his hands raised. Steve twitches, lifting the hose to his face. Relief washes over him just from the feel of the water on his skin. His throat practically screams in satisfaction as Steve gulps the water down.

Water consumes his body and mind. A plague upon him. He should not be so thankful. Not when there’s a ship to take over.

Steve chokes on a bad swallow as the wind is knocked out of him. Dammit. The other man tackles him to the ground with a yell. Steve swings the shotgun wildly, flipping the man off of him and struggling to get back on his feet. His neck snaps back as the man wraps the chain around his leg and yanks him back, Steve keeping his footing and spinning around with the gun. The man grabs the barrel as Steve swings it. He pulls the gun from Steve’s hand and kicks him in the chest, pinning him with his foot and aiming the shotgun.

He pulls the trigger.

Click.

Nothing.

The man yells, Steve jerking his head just as the gun comes down and smashes into pieces. He grabs the man’s ankle, pulling him to the ground, Steve rolling to his knees. His head snaps to the left when the man kicks him. A knife slices through his shirt and digs into his arm. Steve jumps to his feet, only to be yanked back by the three women grabbing his chain and pulling. Steve charges at them with a snarl, the young one startling and knocking the other two back. He pulls out the knife, turning back to the man on the ground. His legs are swept out from under him, the man rolling him onto his back and punching him in the throat. Steve chokes and gasps for air. 

One arm is pinned by the man’s knee, his other wrist is in a vice grip. The man grasps Steve’s muzzle and slams his head into the ground until everything spins, vision white around the edges. The knife is pulled from Steve’s hand and stabbed just beside his ear.

Their eyes meet and Steve’s heart jumps in his throat. There’s a fire in his eyes, something familiar, something wicked. Why would this of all things seem familiar?

…Oh. His eyes are green.

The man cocks his head. He pulls the cloth from his face to reveal a mischievous grin. Steve’s brain short circuits. He knows this face. All too well.

“Well,” Loki says. “Hello, Steve.” His eyes glitter, Steve glaring at him. “I would recognize you like this, wouldn’t I?” As if to emphasize what he means Loki settles his weight further onto Steve’s hips.

“Get off,” Steve snarls, Loki pressing the blade to Steve’s neck.

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Rogers. A lot’s happened since--”

Loki cuts off with a strangled sound, the chain wrapped around his neck and pulled taut, Clint pushing himself to his feet. He pulls Loki off Steve. The youngest runs to them first, Clint hissing at her. She yelps and falls back.

“I’ve got him! I’ve got him, brother!” the lunatic seems to be addressing him. “We’ll finish them off. Bring their pelts as prizes!”

How was he on his side now? Poor bastard had more screws loose than Steve thought.

Steve gets to his feet. A wrench is swung at his head. The blue skinned alien advances towards him with a terrifying cry, brandishing the wrench like a sword. She’s faster than he expects. He stumbles back, the wrench whistling past him with terrifying speed. Steve swings his fist into her gut and an ugly crack echoes in his ears.

Hitting her feels like punching a wall. Tears spring to his eyes, his knuckles throbbing. She knocks him back, swinging the wrench down between his legs. He needs to be faster. Just go. Go, go, go, GO. Steve rolls himself up and sprints towards the ship—but the Man in the Mask is there, he and the younger one helping the green woman into the cabin. The chain pulls taut and snaps Steve back, pulling him to the ground. Loki gives out a pained sound.

“Oi!” a raccoon appears on top of the cargo ship holding a gun. “Get off of him, you creepy, twig-limbed, corpse, son-of-a--”

The first shot hits the sand by Barton’s feet. The second barely misses Loki’s head.

Steve earns a swift kick to the ribs, rolled onto his stomach with his arms pulled up behind him, a foot digging into his back. The woman raises her weapon in warning, stopping when a shrill whistle catches her attention.

The Man in the Mask advances, holding out his metal arm, the woman growling in frustration before tossing him the wrench. Without hesitation the Man flings it, hitting Barton square in the head, knocking him out and onto his ass.

Loki coughs, pushing himself up. The young woman runs over to him. She spits at Barton before helping Loki to his feet. He glares up at the raccoon. The raccoon glares back.

“What? So I missed.”

“You nearly took his head off, Rocket,” the Man says. He approaches Steve with a pair of bolt cutters. The Man nods to the woman. “Let him up.” She sneers, forcing Steve to his feet and giving him a shove, stalking past him. Steve eyes him warily, the Man holding them in offering, Steve giving him a nod. He holds the chain out and the Man cuts it off easily.

Steve sighs in relief.

“You’re cutting him free?” Rocket asks. His legs are dangling over the side of the roof. “That crazy bastard? Look at him. He’s got a muzzle!”

“Exactly. He’s not one of them.”

Loki clicks his tongue. Steve glares at him. He walks by without sparing Steve a glance, rubbing at his throat, the young woman trailing behind him and holding his wrist.

“Don’t mind them,” he says, holding the bolt cutters out towards Loki who takes them without a word. He throws them into the ship’s cabin, helping the young woman up. He walks along the length of the ship, gathering up the hose and shutting off the water. “They’ve had a long day.”

The Man pulls off his mask and Steve’s brain stutters again. He stares at the face that’s haunted his nightmares for how many guilt-filled days? His oldest and closest and bestest friend.

“Hey, Steve.”

_“You let me die, Stevie.”_

Steve twitches.

“Bucky…?”


	2. The In-Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy this chapter is finally up!! Really I'm just having fun writing again. With any of my fics btw since I'm posting again, let me know if anyone needs any trigger warnings added.

“Bucky…?”

There’s a thick, almost heavy weight to his limbs, Steve stepping towards him. This wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. He never expected for Bucky to be a Reality again. Never planned what he’d do, what he’d say. Apologize. Beg for forgiveness. Steve shuffles forward, finally having him close enough to grasp, throwing his arms around him in a hug. It doesn’t seem to be what Bucky expected, standing stiffly before wrapping his arms around him. Steve wasn’t going to cry. He couldn’t. But it felt like he needed to. They pull apart, Bucky grinning and ruffling his hair, Steve playfully swatting him away.

The blue alien appears in the doorway, giving Steve a nasty look before turning to Bucky.

“Gamora’s breathing has shallowed,” she says. “We need to leave.”

“Alright, Nebula,” Bucky responds, tossing his mask into the ship. “Get your sister settled, I’ll worry about our next move.”

She hisses and scoffs, disappearing. Loki saunters up to them and seems to give Bucky a look that makes him arch an eyebrow in response. He shoves the wrench into Bucky’s chest. Loki looks Steve over, eyes flickering to Bucky.

“He’s not getting in this ship,” Loki states matter-of-factly, climbing into the cabin. 

Bucky snorts and shakes his head. He leans back against the door, he and Steve staring at each other. It didn’t feel right. It felt sick. Bucky was gone. He was dead. Slipped through Steve’s fingers like dust. This was all some demented nightmare.

“You’re looking at me like I’m a ghost.” Steve doesn’t answer. Mainly because he’s sure he is too. “I have those sometimes.”

Steve closes his eyes.

_“Where are you going, Steve?”_

_“Where are you, Steve?”_

_“This way…”_

He opens his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. Bucky frowns. Steve shakes his head. ‘I’m fine,’ he thinks. ‘You’re alive.’

“I can’t promise we’re going anywhere good. I’m relying on a grouchy demi-god that’s lost all his uhh—demi-god-ness…” Bucky shrugs. “He’s the god of lies too so…” He cuts off his thought, thinking better of it. “At least it’s not here. The middle of nowhere. A war party slowly approaching.”

Steve just stares. He’s had worse. Maybe. He seems to recall lots of hordes of robots.

“You want that thing off your face?”

He perks up at the thought, Steve trying to push it down. Bucky gives him a smirk. The amount of indignity felt from wearing the fucking thing must be radiating off him. Steve sighs. 

As Steve climbs inside Bucky looks to where a party of ships is steadily approaching. 

Steve shifts into the cabin warily, studying every other face as he slides over into the passenger seat. Loki is lounging in the backseat behind the driver. He seems to be an odd mix of amused and perturbed. Two of the women are in the back seat beside Loki, the young one looking ready to crawl out of her own skin. Steve’s starting to assume that the blue alien—Nebula—naturally looks pissed off. He doesn’t see the third woman.

Anxiety spikes his nerves. Part of him trusted Buck. The little bit of him that was still sane. That didn’t mean Bucky trusted him.

His heart drums steadily in his chest. Nearly everyone in the cabin was trying to kill him not moments ago. There’s a bag of weapons and ammo resting on the floor in front of the young woman, Steve bolting forward to grab it. She squeaks, Steve dragging it into his lap. Bucky climbs into the ship and closes the door. He glances at Steve, and the bag, but doesn’t say anything. Steve looks around the cabin, grabbing the gun resting at his feet. Another in the seat just behind him. Steve snaps his fingers and grunts, pointing at the cannon resting against Loki’s leg. Loki smirks at him. It’s the young woman who reaches for it, handing it to Steve and snapping her arm back as though she expected him to bite.

“You don’t have to do what he tells you,” Nebula whispers to the girl.

“What if he tries to hurt us?”

Loki scoffs. “He wouldn’t dare.”

Nebula bares her teeth at Steve. “Then I’ll put a maggot hole in his belly and leave him for the buzzards.”

Rocket climbs in through the skylight and lands on the seat next to Nebula, a cannon still slung over his shoulder. “We’ve got about a five-minute head start if we get a move on.” He tosses the gun he was carrying onto the center console, Steve snatching it up and shoving it in the bag. “Hey!” Rocket snaps, Steve glaring back at him.

Bucky makes a disapproving noise. “It’s fine.” He starts up the ship, the engine groaning to life as it lurches forward. “Rocket. See if you can find that file in the toolbox.”

“What am I? Your butler?”

 

 

 

Clint Barton slowly stirs back to consciousness. Blood is drying on his temple. He failed. He failed, he failed, he failed, he can’t fail. The cargo ship comes to life, shifting into gear. Barton looks hazily from the ship to the approaching pursuit party. Everything in him was throbbing in pain.

But pain was Father’s gift to them. 

_“He’s not your father…”_

Clint shakes his head. It was… It was HIS kill. He HAD them. He’d be damned if he was going to fail here. Bested by traitors and a blood bag.

He picks up the remaining chain from his cuff and runs.

 

 

 

The raccoon—Rocket—hands Steve a file. Steve reluctantly puts down the handgun he was holding, tucking the bag under his legs. Rocket sits down on the console and rolls his eyes.

He turns to Bucky and asks, “So how do you know this meat bag?”

Steve ignores them, reaching behind his head to find the clasp holding the muzzle in place. He starts filing furiously at it.

Bucky keeps steadily pushing forward on the throttle, easing the ship forward. He glances at Steve and back at the accelerator. “We go way back.” Bucky flips a switch that raises a windshield, pushing his hair back out of his face now that it’s not flying wildly.

“Uh-huh. Vague. Not at all conspicuous.” Rocket motions towards Loki. “And how do you know him?”

Loki swipes his tongue over his teeth.

“Rogers and I have had our…dalliances.”

Steve stops filing to glare at Loki who simply arches a brow in challenge. Steve huffs and keeps filing. Rocket curls his lip.

“Gross. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Who is he?” the young woman asks, her accent surprising Steve. Something odd, something familiar he can’t quite place. Like almost everyone he meets. She holds Nebula’s arm, curled up in the seat between her and Loki. Quieter, she adds, “I know him…”

“You would,” Loki says. When he doesn’t elaborate she stares at him, Loki blinking slowly. “Steve Rogers. You knew him as Captain America.”

“We were…friends?” she asks.

Loki shrugs. She seems comforted by this and drops her gaze from Steve.

He pauses, taking a good look at her.

The red in her hair, the fear hiding the determination behind her eyes. That’s right. The girl. The one from Sokovia. She had a brother. They were fighting. They…there was HYDRA and then…the robot. Ultron. Tony created Ultron. And the girl…she had incredible powers, she was formidable, her magic couldn’t be rivaled. Wanda. Her name was Wanda. She was part of his team. She had…she had disappeared like the others.

“I know you too.”

She smiles softly. Steve meets Loki’s eye, receiving a cold stare. The curious part of this puzzle. Steve hadn’t seen Loki in…a long time. He’d always assumed Loki had found a far away corner of the universe to hole himself up in.

_“You hoped he hadn’t gone far.”_

The ship lurches back. There’s an awful grating metal noise, the whole cabin shaking, Bucky keeping a firm grip on the controls. He frowns, ducking his head out the window.

“Fuck,” Bucky swears, setting things on cruise. “We’re dragging something out back. I think it might be the cargo door.” He grabs his goggles and puts them around his neck. “Rocket. Take the controls while I--”

Steve stops filing. He grunts, taking Bucky’s arm. “No.” Bucky looks up at him as he stands. “I’ll go.” Steve slings the bag of guns over his shoulder and climbs up through the skylight. 

Bucky takes the ship off of cruise. He and Loki share a look. Bucky sets his foot on the console and pulls out a long knife from his boot, pushing it back in its holster. Loki smiles. He keeps his grip on the knife hidden between his wrist and thigh, Wanda laying her hand over his. The green skinned woman sits up, breathing slightly labored.

“Gamora,” Nebula leans over the seat, offering her arm. “You shouldn’t be moving.”

“It comes and goes.” Gamora takes her sister’s arm, using it to pull herself up, climbing over the seat and settling next to her. “Who’s the man?”

Rocket and Bucky speak at the same time:

“Some stray Barnes wanted to take in.”

“A friend.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “He can help.”

“If he doesn’t kill us out of paranoia first,” Loki drawls. He snorts when Bucky looks at him, turning his head.

 

 

 

Steve hooks the bag over his shoulder, wind threatening to whip him around as they soar across the desert. He continues filing furiously. The file saws through, the latch clicking open. Finally. Steve sighs, pulling the damn thing off his face.

He climbs over the makeshift turret on top of the ship. He sets the bag of weapons at the mouth of it, carefully inching towards the back. The cargo door is open. It drags along the desert floor, bouncing them dangerously. Steve squats down, looking around the top of the frame while keeping his balance, finding a latch and a censor. He presses it, waiting until the door is fully closed and locked before he stands, squinting out into the desert.

A fixation in the West. Needling ever closer with the cover of a cloud of red sand. Steve collects the bag and makes his way back towards the cabin. What was to the East? It was only nothingness. Sand and skeletons. A Dead End.

 

 

 

Two flares go off in the distance. The three women crowd around the passenger window. Wanda pulls out a Looking Glass, peering through and sharing it with the others.

“What do you see?” Bucky asks.

“The first from the South,” Gamora says. “The Sanctuary. Thanos has called for their aid and they’ve responded.” Her breath catches in her throat. “And—the other. Somewhere North. Must be a party that was already on the move.”

“Three war parties?” Rocket jumps to his feet. “Fucking hell, we don’t have enough guns for that! How in the hell are we supposed to fight off the Titan’s baddest of the bad if we don’t have enough fucking ammo?”

“Perhaps spraying your shots isn’t the method we ought to be using,” Loki says, Rocket’s ears flattening back with a sneer.

“You’re right! Next time I’ll miss a couple times and then land my shot.”

Loki sneers back at the raccoon, hand tightening around the blade he was hiding.

“We’re outrunning,” Bucky shouts above their bickering. “Not facing. I don’t plan on getting in a gun fight unless we have to.”

“And where do you plan on losing three pursuing war parties?” Nebula asks.

“The Graveyard.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Rocket says, tail flicking. “I know you’re crazy, Barnes, but that’s no reason to completely lose it. We’re way too big to be weaving through a bunch of downed spaceships and debris. They’re gonna be way faster than us in there!”

“I have a plan.”

“That’s very reassuring. Seeing as your first plan was going so well.”

Bucky snorts. “That was Loki’s plan.”

“It _worked_ , didn’t it?”

Rocket rolls his eyes. “Oh, yeah, worked like a charm, three war parties and a crazy desert hobo with all our guns,” he mumbles, “this is going great.”

Bucky opens his mouth to retaliate, turning his eye off the road, anything to keep them from incessantly bickering. Clint Barton pops up from where he’d been climbing along the side of the ship. He swings the chain through the window and around Bucky’s neck, pulling it tight.

“Return what you stole, scavenger traitor scum!” Clint yells.

“Let go of him!”

“Kill him!”

Loki grips the chain and pulls it away from Bucky’s throat. Wanda, Nebula, and Gamora all grab Clint’s arms and shirt, Gamora working on pulling his fingers open. Bucky wheezes, Rocket leaping up to grab the controls when the ship veers dangerously to the left. They wrestle the chain out of his grip, dragging him into the cabin. Bucky re-takes the wheel. The women pin his arms down, Loki keeping one hand on Clint’s head and pressing a knife to his throat. Loki squints at the man, snorting and rolling his eyes.

“Barton,” Loki huffs.

Clint isn’t even able to push himself up. He pants, wriggling under their grip, Loki clicking his tongue and tapping the blade on the column of his throat. He flares his nostrils, glaring up at Loki.

“Let’s just kill him!” Nebula snarls

“We can’t kill him,” Wanda argues. “He’s already half-dead!”

“We already have a stray, we don’t need another,” Gamora says.

“Kill him!”

“He’s just as lost as we all were! He doesn’t know the Truth!”

“You’re all traitors!” Barton says, unable to struggle. “He’ll have you as trophies! Our Father will make examples of you all!” He sneers at the back of Bucky’s head and spits. “Especially you, scavenger!”

Rocket screams in frustration, scraping his hands over his face. “For fuck’s sake just KILL HIM!”

The bag of guns drops down. Steve climbs back through the skylight into the passenger seat.

“Throw him out!” Bucky yells.

Bucky glances at Steve, rolling his eyes. Steve nods towards the window. “You have more friends,” he says.

Gamora flings the door open, leaning against Loki’s arm where it’s gripping the frame. She looks, hair flying wildly in the wind. “It’s Corvus,” she growls through gritted teeth.

Clint laughs shrilly, turning his head towards Bucky. “There’s no getting out of this one. They’ll string you up in the tunnel! We’ll be reminded of your betrayal and how the Titan reigns supreme.”

“There’s no glory in one man controlling the fate of all,” Loki sneers.

“Fucking crazy bastard,” Rocket sighs, spitting at Clint. Barton makes a face and tries spitting back at him. “His brains are too mashed. You’re preaching to a corpse.”

Wanda leans over him, meeting Barton’s eye. Her hair grazes his face. “He’s a liar and a murderer. He controls with power and fear, it’s all he knows.” 

“We are his children and he our Father! He is great and glorious and leads us all to our destiny!”

“He’s a psychotic monster,” Gamora says, voice trembling with rage. “A madman that doesn’t care for anyone or anything.”

“He provides for us all!”

“We were never given a choice!” Nebula yells. “We were all reborn into a world of his creation!”

“The world was already lost! Our purpose is only to serve him in thanks that we were given another chance to live! What would be left if it weren’t for him?”

“And who killed the world in the first place?” Wanda asks. “What fate is held in his hand for you should you come back empty handed?”

Something in Barton’s eyes flickers. Like a spell being broken. There’s a haze that leaves him but is back just as quick, gripping his mind like a lasso. They give a final shove, letting go of Barton and sending him tumbling into the sand. He looks warily towards the approaching ships, confusion knit in his brow. He picks himself up and runs.

 

 

 

Through all the Madness of the world…the Mind Stone remembered Clint Barton.

 

 

 

Loki pulls the door shut. He eases Gamora into the seat next to her sister, Gamora shoving him off, Loki seemingly unbothered by her glare. She breathes as if she’s been running, unable to catch her breath, Steve studying her and meeting Loki’s eye. He tilts his head, looking away. Rocket leans against the console, his arms crossed, looking up at Gamora.

“Take it easy,” Rocket says, one ear laid back. “You’re all I’ve got, you know.”

She smiles at him, Nebula’s arm wrapped protectively around her.

Bucky nudges Steve. There was a look of steely determination in his eyes but one that told Steve if he wanted out…now was the time. Steve lifts his head. He’d never backed down from a fight before and he wasn’t about to start now. Bucky smirks at him, nodding towards the bag of weapons. Steve snorts. He nods his permission.

“We need inventory.” Bucky takes the bag, handing it back to Loki who gives Steve a triumphant smirk. “Count what we have and how many rounds for each gun. They’ll be up our ass in a matter of seconds.”

“Does the Captain still have a righteous streak, then?”

“Loki--”

“Corvus won’t go down easily,” Gamora says. “He’ll slaughter each one of us until he finds what he’s after.” She and Loki share another glare. “Rocket, please tell me you have something up your sleeve?”

“He won’t kill you,” Nebula mumbles. “You’re Father’s favorite. He wants you back.”

“Look even if we had enough guns to handle these bastards it won’t make much of a difference without my stuff!” Rocket yells. Bucky just stares. He turns on Loki, motioning at him with one of his paws. “But _somebody_ wouldn’t let me--”

Loki drags a box out from under the seat with his foot, arching a brow. Rocket’s whole attitude seems to light up. Like a child on Christmas. The box is filled with bits of scrap and wire, along with a dozen or so small oblong objects.

Rocket picks one of the objects up and grins. “Oh. Yeah.” He perks up, looking at Loki. “Alright. What’s the plan?”

“James?” Loki prompts.

Steve snorts. “James?”

Loki glares at him before going back to counting ammo rounds. Bucky shrugs. He points in the direction they’re heading, Steve squinting against the white light of the sun reflecting off the sand. Just there, at the edge of the world, small black shapes have begun to form.

“You can see The Graveyard on the horizon. There’s one huge battleship that’s the only way in or out. If we get through first--”

“And blow it up!”

“We’ll have at least a day or two before they can make their way around.” Bucky slows down the acceleration. The ships edge closer. “Rocket.” The raccoon raises his ears. “Would you be able to commandeer one of those speeders?”

“Are you kidding?” Rocket says incredulously, throwing his arms out. “I’ve taken down whole crews tougher than these guys.” Gamora snorts. He grins at her, shoving everything from the box into a bag that he hooks to his back. “Oh, like you remember better than I do.”

Loki hands him a cannon, Rocket slinging it over his shoulder and jumping up to the skylight.

“Don’t blow it before we get through!” Bucky yells after him. Loki sets a sniper rifle on the center console, Steve and Bucky both looking at it. He puts on his mask and goggles, turning to Steve. “Think you can drive?”

Steve looks over the controls of the ship and shrugs. How hard could it be? They switch seats, Steve running his hands over the controls, putting one on what seemed to be a throttle.

“When I say, throw the acceleration and keep on course towards the battleship.” Steve nods. “If anything, just follow Rocket.”

Loki sets another gun on the console, Steve looking down at it knowingly. He tucks it underneath him. Loki hands Gamora and Nebula each a cannon and keeps one for himself, glancing at Wanda. She raises her head up, anxiety written in every line of her body.

“Get behind the seat if you aren’t going to fight,” Loki tells her gently, pulling his own mask up over his nose. “You’ll get in the way.”

The fire brims in Wanda’s eyes. She straightens up, Loki nodding to her knowingly and handing her a gun. She tucks herself into the seat, clutching the gun to her chest. She lifts one of the trinkets hanging around her neck and kisses it.

The first of the speeders comes up on Steve’s side. The creatures inside—human and alien—jeer and shout at him, pointing their weapons. Steve barely saves them a glance. There’s a symphony of gunshots and shouts, Rocket jumping down on top of them and taking them out. He laughs like a madman, throwing the speeder into full gear and taking off in the direction they’re going.

Bucky stands through the skylight and takes out three drivers in a matter of seconds. The sisters each take a window, Wanda tucking herself behind Nebula but keeping her gun in hand.

“Keep straight,” Loki says to Steve, lowering his voice. “Don’t stop no matter what happens.” Steve glances at him where he’s seated on the center console. Loki flashes him a sharp grin. “I’m just making sure your heroic streak to save everyone doesn’t doom us all.”

Steve scowls at him, Loki turning away with a smirk when he fails to get a rise out of him.

Several speeders ram into their backside, soldiers climbing onto the ship. Bucky and Loki take turns shooting them off. Nebula yells as she adds suppressing fire, one of the speeders taking a barrage of shots, their engine blowing and the entire speeder catching flame. She pulls back, taking out her empty ammo pack, Wanda handing her a new one.

“We have three more of those,” Loki calls down from where he’s positioned.

Nebula makes a snarling noise, reloading her cannon.

 

 

 

Rocket jumps from the speeder onto the side of the massive battleship. He slings his cannon over his shoulder and pulls his bag around to his front, climbing up the side until he comes to an opening large enough for him to crawl inside.

“Fucking crazy bastards,” he mumbles. As he crawls along he pulls out a mess of wire and scrap, connecting it all together as he goes.

His entrance leads into the main part of the ship, Rocket hopping down to climb along the overhanging wreckage. He pulls out bombs, placing them along his path, calibrating them as he goes. Rocket places the last one on a low hanging lip right near what he assumes would be their way out.

There’s an explosion in the distance. Rocket perks his ears up. He climbs his way back out on top of the battleship, running along the top of it while putting the finishing touches on his controller. He cackles to himself, tucking the device onto his hip and pulling his cannon back around, cocking it.

 

 

 

One of the speeders takes cover in the smoke from the explosion, pulling up on the right.

“They’re going to pull in front of you!” Nebula yells at Steve.

“I’ve got another one coming around your left!” Gamora shouts, still shooting. She swears and pushes her hair out of her face. “I missed him!”

Steve watches as the speeders start gaining on them. He keeps his hand on the controls, staying on course. Nebula pulls away from her window. She watches the speeders, looking to Steve, furrowing her brow the closer they get. Steve flexes his fingers, his jaw shifting.

“He’s not turning,” Nebula says, not directing this at Steve. Gamora turns her head now, hesitating between keeping her place at the window and watching the speeders steadily gaining on them.

Loki ducks down from his position, eyeing the speeders that were nearly at the front of their hull.

“Captain.” There’s a hint of impatience in Loki’s tone. “Rogers!” Steve grunts in response. “You can _swerve_ out of the way if you weren’t aware that--”

Steve pulls the throttle back almost to a full stop, the ship lurching as it stops short. Loki lands against the console with a less than graceful thud. Wanda lets out a squeak, Nebula keeping an arm on her, Bucky grasping the edge of the skylight to keep his footing. The speeders in front of them ram into each other. Steve throws the throttle into full acceleration and plows through the wreckage. The women all jerk back into their seats, Loki gripping the console to keep from sliding onto the floor.

“Fucking hell!” Bucky shouts.

“Well,” Loki says, pushing himself up with what dignity he could muster. “I suppose that works too.”

Steve snorts at him. “You said keep straight.”

Bucky laughs above them, Loki not being subtle when he knocks the back of Bucky’s knee with his cannon.

Steve grimaces at what Bucky had called the Graveyard. A wall of rotting ships of all sizes, the largest towards the central direction Steve’s heading. It was huge. Bigger than Steve ever imagined anything being. It looked bigger than all of New York. Steve looks behind them. He swallows. All the ships that have attacked them—and this is only the first war party that’s caught up with them.

Loki points at the mouth of the colossal ship in the center. “That’s where you’re heading. Keep an eye out for the rodent.”

“Rocket,” Gamora corrects him.

In his peripheral a larger speeder pulls up alongside them. The passengers inside jeer and point at him with their weapons, Gamora firing at them, but they swerve out of the way. Something glints at the front of their ship as they make their way back, Steve blinking when the light catches his eye. He looks again, his shield strapped to the front of their speeder. Steve grits his teeth.

“That’s mine!” Steve yells, pulling his gun and shooting at the driver. They manage to swerve out of range, Steve swearing under his breath.

One of the soldiers leaps from their speeder onto the side of the ship, jabbing their spear through Steve’s window. Steve grabs the shaft of the spear, pulling the creature further into the cabin and slamming his fist into its face. Loki slams the butt of his gun into the alien’s throat and shoots it as it falls from the ship. He flips his hair back, arching a brow when he catches Steve staring. The others in the speeder with the shield shoot at them, Loki adding suppressing fire. It pulls back, Steve growling and watching it disappear behind them, Loki clicking his tongue.

The other speeders pull back, making way for the larger ship pulling forward. It’s heavily armored compared to the others, reminding Steve of the tanks in Germany. The creatures on board all have spears that they’re rhythmically banging against the ship. There’s a lone man, much larger than the others, wearing heavy armor and a helmet. He stands at the front of the ship, one foot on the hood. In its hand is a large alien-looking glaive. Steve glares at the newcomer, looking around and watching as the other ships start pulling back behind this one.

Bucky climbs down from his perch and re-takes the passenger seat, Loki leaning against the console.

“Scavenger!” the creature lifts its helmet, Bucky turning with a sneer. Steve narrows his eyes at the alien. “Surrender yourself and your band, and the justice you receive will be just. You will not be slaughtered like the traitors you are.”

Steve looks to Bucky who simply shakes his head.

The creature—Corvus, the woman had called him—raises his glaive, aiming it at Steve.

“Then you choose Lady Death.”

Gamora flings the door open, holding herself as a shield between Corvus’ glaive and Steve. Nebula takes hold of her waist to steady her. Steve looks up at her in puzzlement. This woman owed him nothing. Bucky leans over Steve’s shoulder, lining up a shot. Loki stands, retaking the skylight.

“Sister!” Corvus sneers, faltering his stance. “You would protect the life of a traitor? He who stole from our Father?”

“He is no Father of mine!” Gamora yells back.

Bucky takes the shot but the man—the alien—Corvus barely flinches.

“He’s immortal, James,” Loki says blandly.

“I know he’s immortal!” Bucky snaps back at him. “I didn’t know he was going to just stand there!”

The battleship was coming up fast. Loki adds suppressing fire, ducking back down into the skylight as the soldiers fire back. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. Loki digs through the bag and pulls out a new ammo round, reloading his gun. Bucky takes shots out of his window, keeping other ships from cutting them off.

“Sister!” Corvus yells. “You bring this fate on yourself! You defile our Father choosing sides with the likes of traitors and scavengers!” He points his glaive at her. “Give back what you’ve stolen and I will grant you forgiveness in our Father’s name.”

“You won’t kill me, Corvus! He will want me back alive!”

“But only just!”

He raises his glaive, Gamora keeping her head held high. Determined to hold her ground.

“ _Gamora!_ ”

Nebula throws herself in front of Gamora, the blade breaching her chest. Wanda screams. Loki throws his cannon down, wrapping his arms around her as she’s yanked back, her hands grasping at the frame of the door. Gamora cries out, taking her arm. Nebula’s grip fails her, Loki taking her arm, Gamora grabbing his waist to keep him from being dragged with her. He holds fast to her hand, her joints cracking from the strain.

They approach the mouth of the battleship. Rocket jumps down onto the top of their ship, cocking his gun.

“Rocket!”

“I’ve got a shot on him!”

Rocket takes aim at Corvus’ ship.

“Don’t let go,” Loki says, Nebula meeting his eye. 

She grimaces, letting out a weak groan. “Keep them safe.”

“Nebula--”

Nebula cries out, swinging her other arm forward and hitting the joint of her wrist. Once, twice, her hand coming off and the rest of her pulling back and out of Loki’s grasp. Gamora screams her name. Loki grabs the side of the ship, pulling himself up and back inside, keeping one arm around Gamora.

Darkness surrounds them as they rush into monstrous mouth of the ship. The air is cooler, the vacuum of it popping Steve’s ears. Nothing can be heard over the roar of the engines and the agonizing screams from the backseat.

“No! NOOOO!” Gamora screams. “No, go back for her! She’s not dead!”

Loki meets Bucky’s eye. He lowers his head. Bucky turns forward.

“Keep going.”

“NO!”

Wanda sobs, covering her face with her hands. Loki pulls the door closed. Rocket jumps down through the skylight, holding a controller in one hand and his gun in the other. His ears are folded back, glancing at Gamora before hesitantly turning towards Bucky.

“We’ve got speeders following us in.”

“Full speed. Set off the detonators when I say.”

The inside of the monstrous ship swallows up all light, only streaks bleeding through, Steve straining to see. Their ship is rocked side to side as he avoids structures in their path. The chilling shrieks of the soldiers pursuing them echo in the caverns of the battleship. Two land on top of their ship. Loki pushes himself up, cocking his gun and shooting off the intruders.

A sliver of light is just ahead. Daylight.

“Bucky,” Steve says.

“Rocket!”

Rocket hits his detonator with a wicked laugh and--

Nothing. One of the speeders pulls up ahead of Steve. Rocket swears, hitting the button again and again, banging it on the console.

“Rocket?”

“Working on it!”

Bucky leans out the window. He shoots the drivers down, the speeder losing control and crashing with a fiery explosion. The flames lick at Bucky’s face, falling back into his seat and yanking off his goggles.

“ROCKET!”

“Where?” Loki asks, climbing up to sit on the skylight, resting his cannon on his shoulder.

“Last one is right at the mouth of the exit--”

Loki lays back flat on the roof of the ship. He takes aim. 

A surviving soldier from the speeder climbs onto the hood of the ship. Bucky shoots at him, misses, the soldier crawling out of range. It shrieks at them and bangs against the windshield, stopping when it takes notice of Loki on top of the ship. Steve sees the thought connect in the creature’s head before it can act, jerking the ship and causing it to fly off the hood. Loki lets out a yelp, gripping the roof of the ship and keeping his balance against the side. His bare feet slide against the metal, legs and hips dangling just beside Steve’s window. He glances up at him but can’t see his face.

Bucky and Rocket climb up to shoot from the skylight. The sliver of light grows ever closer. There is a lip in the tunnel lower than the others, a small blinking orb in the center of it. Loki shifts to center himself, aiming his gun. Bucky and Rocket duck down as Loki shoots, the bomb exploding from the impact. Loki loses his grip, Steve’s arm jerking out to grab around his waist, Loki’s hands flailing to grab for the window.

Steve catches him, pulling him into the cabin.

The explosion sets off a chain, Steve’s ears ringing, fire engulfing the ship. They speed out of the mouth of it as debris collapses on top of them, smoke billowing behind them. Bucky springs over to grab the controls, steering them around a ship just in front of them. He jerks them back and forth to avoid a collision, ships’ remains surrounding them on every side. Steve eases the ship to a halt, everyone letting out a collective breath of relief.

Loki sits up from where he’s still half-seated on Steve’s lap and pulls down his mask. He sighs, giving Steve a grateful smile. Bucky slumps in the seat next to them, pulling off his own mask and tossing it to the floor. Rocket collapses onto the console.

“Well! That worked better than expected!”

Steve lets go of where he was still holding onto Loki’s waist. He meets Loki’s eye, Steve’s ears growing hot as Loki studies his face. Gamora kicks her door open, startling them out of their moment. She practically falls out of the cabin, Wanda and Rocket climbing out after her. Loki lifts himself to politely shift off Steve and climb through the window. Steve lets his head flop back against the seat.

Bucky picks up his rifle, motioning for Steve to follow him.

Gamora lets out a desolate cry. She drops to her knees, arms wrapped around herself. Wanda is running away from the ship.

“You know they’re gonna kill yah!” Rocket calls after her. “Kid! KID!”

“He’ll forgive us!” Wanda yells. “I know he will!”

Steve and Loki watch her run. Bucky lifts his rifle. Wanda runs towards the caved in battleship, a few lone soldiers crawling from the wreckage. Bucky shoots them down, one by one. Wanda collapses to the ground with a sob.

Loki approaches Wanda slowly and kneels beside her. Bucky sighs. He puts his sniper rifle back in the cabin and nods to Steve.

“I’m going to go cool off the engines.” Bucky pulls his hair back into a bun. “Just—make sure they all make it back into the ship.”

Steve welcomes the slight breeze that dances through. Some of the remains around them creak and groan. He glances at the raccoon where it’s leaned against the ship adjusting its gun. Steve thinks better of asking any questions. Gamora is curled up in the sand and sobbing, hands dug into her hair as she rocks. Steve can’t help the twinge of sympathy he feels. The world was already built on everything they ever knew being torn away from them that losing what little there was… 

_“Steve…?”_

He tries not to think of Bucky, collapsing into nothing. Waking up after the ice. Peggy.

Steve steps towards Gamora, Rocket clicking his tongue. He stops. “I’d leave her be,” Rocket says, keeping his voice low. “That Titan bastard may call them all his children…but her and her sister? They were some of his first.” He shakes his head and sighs. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

Loki pulls Wanda to her feet, walking her back towards the ship. Rocket lifts his head.

“Sit with her while I help Gamora inside,” he sighs, helping Wanda up into the cabin.

Rocket nods. He looks around before leaning his gun against the ship, looking up at Steve. “Keep an eye on that for me, yeah?” Steve shrugs, Rocket climbing in after Wanda.

Loki approaches Gamora with more caution, kneeling beside her. There’s a flash of movement as Gamora catches the front of Loki’s shirt and slams him back against the ship. 

“Gamora--”

“You let her go,” she hisses.

“Gamora, there was nothing I could--”

She slams him again, Steve hesitating to act.

“You let her _GO_!” 

Angry tears roll down her cheeks. Loki lifts his hands in submission. “Gamora…our sister knew the risk. We still have a chance to--”

“Our? _OUR_?!” Her hand presses against his throat, Loki catching her wrist. “The _ONLY_ reason we’re here, the _ONLY_ reason Thanos sent three war parties after us in the first place, is because of _YOU_!” Gamora lowers her voice, leaning in close to Loki to stare him dead in the eye, lip curled up to expose her teeth. “I know what you did. I know the only reason Thanos would put any effort in a rogue scavenger…and it wasn’t for our sake.”

Loki’s eyes flicker. He narrows them at the accusation.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Gamora reaches for the strap on his leg, pulling it and grabbing one of the knives hidden in the holster. She slashes his cheek and he barely flinches, one arm pinning him against the ship as she presses the blade against his neck. Steve snatches up the gun.

“You’re as slippery as you ever were, Asgardian,” she snarls. “A self-preserving coward no better than a _rat_ \--”

Steve aims the cannon at her head from only a few feet away. “Back off,” he growls. Loki and Gamora both side-eye him. Rocket pokes his head out of the cabin.

Gamora jerks back, tossing the knife into the sand and stalking towards Steve. She barks in his face, letting out another frustrated cry as she doubles over, Loki reaching to catch her. She shoves him off, catching herself on the door, Rocket helping pull her inside.

“You got it, you’re alright,” Rocket says, Gamora choking back a sob. Steve lowers the gun, handing it back to Rocket. The raccoon snorts, smirking at him. “Thanks, big guy. Take a lap.”

Steve looks up as Loki disappears around the back of the ship. There’s a nagging voice in the back of his head—that suspiciously sounds like Peggy—telling him to leave it. He was never good at that. He glances towards the front of the ship where Bucky was, considering letting him handle it. Bucky would likely leave Loki to himself. And Steve knew better than to assume Loki was up to nothing. He follows him, keeping somewhat of a casual distance, peeking around the side. Loki’s leaned against the cargo door, wrapping up his knuckles. His eyes are shining with unspilt tears. Steve’s gut clenches with embarrassment, too late to step away, Loki would have noticed him.

Loki sighs, blinking the tears away.

“How did you die, Rogers?” Steve frowns. Loki doesn’t look at him. He just continues wrapping the same strip of fabric around his hand. Steve doesn’t answer. “It’s alright if you don’t remember.”

So many had faded. Their faces turning ashen and black before fading away. So many. And it didn’t even mean anything. Some came back. Some died anyway. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and whispers:

“I didn’t.” 

Steve looks when he feels Loki watching him. He swallows, looking away again. 

“I didn’t die.”

Loki hums. He tries tying off the bandage, Steve stepping in and taking his hand, surprised when Loki doesn’t snatch it away. There was always a hyper focus, a gentle nudge on his mind whenever Loki was watching him. Even if Steve couldn’t see him. He meets Loki’s eye, and isn’t surprised when there’s a flash of emotion he doesn’t catch, flickering away like a candle. Loki turns to turn on one of the water faucets, splashing the water on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, without really knowing why. “About—about the woman. Nebula.”

“It was her own fault.”

There wasn’t any truth in Loki’s words, Steve frowning but reminding himself that things were different now. Pressing Loki would likely result in a quicker death than in the past. Lucky for him Loki was assuming the same.

He looked different though. At least from the last time Steve had seen him. The last he could remember. He looked tired. Not unusual…most people Steve met in this world teetered at the cusp of exhaustion and insanity. But Loki looked thinner, more worn, it showed in his skin and his eyes. There was always an unusualness to Loki’s presence. A feeling Steve couldn’t describe except to assume it came from the magic that coursed through him. Steve didn’t feel it now. The air was not as charged, there was a blandness to it.

He looked more like a man than he’d ever before.

The questions were on the tip of Steve’s tongue. It would be a fruitless conversation. Loki would either get mad at the prying or he’d simply turn Steve’s questions on their head. His mood already seemed poor and the sane part of Steve wished he didn’t know Loki as well as he did…even though he didn’t know him half as well as he thought.

“It’s been a while…” Steve says.

He winces as Loki turns to look at him, clearly already on to his scheme for answers. Loki rolls his eyes and goes back to tending to his battered hands.

“Here to strike up a casual conversation? Seems a bit frivolous at the cusp of the end of the world.” His tone is as sharp as the edge of one of his knives, Steve balancing on the edge of it. Not answering doesn’t seem to be the solution, Steve watching the way Loki seems to bristle at his silence. “What are you getting out of this, Rogers?” Loki snaps at him. “There’s no one around to impress with your heroics. It isn’t as if you were just trying to overpower us and take our ship, so I don’t see why you feel the need to insist on your good intentions.”

Steve hardens himself to the sharpness in Loki’s words. He remembers the pointlessness of their conversations, the bitterness found in failing to convince Loki of his lack of wrongs and faults. His true fault lying in the wickedness of his words and his quickness to lash out and push away. Steve wasn’t here to save anyone. It was simply safer in a group, more convenient in numbers, they just happened to have water and a ship.

He frowns, his eyes darkening. “Good to know you haven’t changed.”

That seems to spur something in him. Loki’s eyes flash with a look of hurt, quickly hiding it away, his cheeks twinging with what Steve suspected wasn’t entirely from the heat. Embarrassment was not a common look for him.

“Rogers--” Loki lifts his head, defenses no longer raised. “Steve,” he says, a chill running up Steve’s spine. “Thank you. For…before.”

Steve nods in response. Loki steps away from the rushing water, clearly making peace with his offering. Steve simply sticks his head under the cool water, taking gulping mouthfuls of it, grateful for its presence. He pulls back, shaking his head like a dog, catching a glimpse of a fond smile. Loki shuts off the valve.

_Did you die?_ Steve caught himself thinking, frowning at the thought. It seemed such an unusual thing to ask, as if many people in this world remembered anything at all. But Loki always was unusual. Always knew things he probably shouldn’t. Steve realizes he must’ve been staring, Loki growing visibly uncomfortable. Another breeze picks up, Loki tucking his hair back and nodding to Steve.

“I think I ought to see what’s keeping James.”

Loki turns away, his shoulders sagging as he makes his way towards the front of the ship.

“What are you looking for?” Steve finds himself asking. “There’s nothing out here…whatever you’re hoping to find.”

“Thor,” Loki says, barely turning his head. Not a hint of hesitation is in his voice. “We’re here to find Thor.”

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

_It was cold. The bitter wind whips at Steve’s face as he clings to the side of the train, reaching. Bucky was dangling on the side of the door, just out of reach. Always out of reach. He stretches his arm out until he feels it may pop out of place. He’s RIGHT there._

_“Buck--” Steve reaches out for him, teeth gritted. “Reach for me. Reach for me, I’ve got you.”_

_Bucky reaches for him. He’s losing his balance. The bar supporting him groans. It’s going to fall. He’s going to fall. Steve knows he is but he’s still reaching for him. He’ll catch him this time. Bucky’s hand is barely an inch away from his. Almost--_

_His grip slips._

_He falls._

_Steve catches him. Steve’s hand catches his, shoulder straining from holding both their weights on the side of the train._

_“I got you,” Steve says, tears stinging his eyes. “I’ve got you.”_

_Bucky gives him an odd look, his eyes glazing over. Steve feels his weight go limp in his hand._

_“Steve…?”_

_“I’ve got you,” he keeps saying, the tears running down his face._

_Bucky’s body slowly begins dissolving right in front of him. Steve’s frozen on the side of the train, too horrified to do anything but watch as Bucky turns into dust. The last of him that remains is his face and the hand clenched in Steve’s, his terrified eyes slowly turning to dust until all Steve has left is his hand in his. Steve grasps it, finding his fist empty._

_He sobs, shaking in agony while gripping the side of the train. The voices were coming. They always did. Everyone’s voices. He remembered all of them._

_Steve opens his eyes and the Dead Faces rush at him, Steve losing his grip. He falls from the train, ears popping, everything around him going numb…_

Steve startles awake, fists clenched hard enough that his open knuckles throb, twisting himself in the blanket that had been draped over him. Bucky turns to him, alive, whole, driving the cargo ship. He furrows his brow.

“It’s alright,” Bucky says, reaching out to touch Steve’s arm. “Rest.”

His whole body melts into the touch. Steve leans back against his seat, watching the desert as it passes by. The sun has gone now, giving way to the coolness of the desert at night, a moon lighting their way. It casts eerie shadows against the ghostly remains of the ships.

There’s a snarling noise from the backseat, Steve turning to look. Gamora is curled up in the middle of the seat, Wanda leaning on her one side, a blanket wrapped around the two of them. Rocket is lying against Gamora’s lap. The three are asleep, Rocket snoring noisily. Steve blinks, looking down to find Loki curled up on the floor, resting against the console. Steve takes off his blanket, draping it over Loki.

Bucky hums, smirking at him. Steve quirks a brow.

“What?”

“Dunno,” Bucky shrugs. “Guess I didn’t fully believe him about you.” Steve stares at him, Bucky laughing lightly. “We swapped some stories. So…the two of you were a thing, huh?”

Steve sighs. He shrugs one of his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest for warmth. Bucky drops the subject. They watch the desert in silence, the cold air almost burning against Steve’s sun and sand burned skin. It felt strange, being around people again. People that weren’t lost to the madness of the world. He couldn’t remember how many days he’d gone alone with the voices. He’d never thought there was a chance it would ever change. Steve glances at Loki again, furrowing his brow as he stares back out the window.

“You really think you’re going to find Thor out here?” he asks.

“Not sure. I’ve heard rumors though.” Bucky sets the controls on cruise. “About pieces of other worlds all pieced together to make the one we’re in. Asgard had to be one of them.” He lets his hair down as he talks, fixing his bun.

Steve looks him over. He still had his metal arm, Steve grimacing at the reminder of how he’d got it. His dream haunts him, Steve closing his eyes to ground himself. It doesn’t help. The faces flash in his mind. His breath catches in his throat, Steve opening his eyes.

“What happened to you, Buck? After…”

The silence draws out between them, Bucky leaning back in his seat. He stares in front of him.

“Don’t really remember the in-between. Just that everything faded,” his shoulders heave with a sigh, “and then I was here.”

“And them?” Steve nods towards the back seat, Rocket letting out another loud snore. Bucky smiles.

“Well…Loki found me. Sort of…” Bucky says. “I was his way out.”

Steve pinches his brow. “And the others?”

“I couldn’t leave them. He was their way out.” Bucky meets his eye, giving him a bit of a cheeky smile. “I guess I just asked myself ‘what would Stevie do’ and went with it.”

Loki makes a soft sound that almost sounds like a laugh. They both look at him, Loki shifting under the blanket and letting out a soft sigh. Bucky snorts and shrugs, looking back out the window. Steve watches him for a moment and decides to ignore it.

“You know it’s kinda cool,” Bucky says, staring at the rubble of ships. “All these objects and places mashed together. Spaceships and aliens and—talking raccoons.” He chuckles. “Things I never imagined I’d ever see. They were talking about flying cars a hundred years ago…and here I am driving an alien spaceship. A flying car.”

Steve just stares out at the horizon. The Nothing. Every where was a Dead End. There was never anything. Only death and fire. The empty madness of desperately wanting something familiar or welcoming. A way out. Anything.

“How do you know Thor’s out here?” Steve can’t help but ask, the anxiety pressing on his mind.

“He has to be,” Loki hums, revealing himself awake. He curls further underneath the blanket. “He’s the only one that can kill him.”

Steve blinks. That’s right. Thor had dealt a finishing blow. He nearly stopped him. But Thanos’ power was already too great. He shudders, looking down at Loki. He was so…sure. Steve turns away. If Thor was really out there…wouldn’t he have done something by now?

_“Did you?”_

_“You let us die…”_

He twitches, looking back down at Loki.

“Are you cold?” Loki lifts his head. “I could move over.”

Loki shifts, Steve moving over in the seat as Loki climbs over the console. Steve chooses to ignore the brazen smile Bucky’s wearing. Loki settles beside him, still wrapped in the blanket, tucking his feet up in the seat. Steve’s face grows hot, not wanting to seem like he’s staring. He glances back at the others. Gamora shifts in her sleep, Wanda pinching her brow. Her eyelids flutter. She lets out a small noise. Loki looks to her as well, turning back when she drifts off again. He lays his head on Steve’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

“The girl. Wanda.” Loki hums. “She had powers before. Strong ones.” Loki hums again. “What happened?”

He sighs, sounding just as exhausted as he looked. “Same thing that happened to anyone supernatural. Their powers were forgotten.” Loki looks down at his hands. Studies his hands like he can’t understand them. With a bitterness as though they aren’t working. They aren’t doing what he asks. “This Reality can’t be explained. Just that some know it isn’t the one they came from. That it isn’t what the world was.”

“And you remember this.”

“So do you,” he says, staring at him. “So does Gamora. And James.”

“Why Bucky?”

Bucky smiles. He shrugs, tucking his arms against him and drawing his feet up to sit them on the dash.

“Not sure, actually,” Loki looks Bucky over, still leaning against Steve. “You faded like many others did. I can only assume that your mind’s been scrambled enough that you’re rather immune.”

“Thanks,” Bucky laughs. Loki grins at him.

“And her?” Steve nods at Gamora, keeping his voice low. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She remembers how she died,” Loki says, his tone going somber again. “Some people do. And it haunts them. This Reality is unstable, not quite grasping the expanse of the universe as the Titan may believe.”

“And you think Thor can fix this.”

He was careful not to word this as a question, Loki still tensing up against him. As if he had to explain himself any more than what Steve believed. He had hope. Hope that Thor was still out there. It was more than Steve had.

“Thor is the only one strong enough to bring the Titan to his knees.” Loki tucks himself back under the blanket, rearranging so that he’s curled up in the seat. “He was too strong before. But now he does not have the power of the universe in his hand.”

Steve frowns. “How do you know?”

Loki doesn’t answer. He shifts away from him, awkwardly curled up with his head resting against the seat. He pulls the blanket up over his nose which Steve takes as a sign that he’s done talking about this. Bucky shifts in the seat, tucking his arms behind his head.

“Why help him?” He asks, Bucky tilting his head. Steve swallows around a dry tongue, dry throat, reminded every time he looks at Bucky that this is real. “You don’t have anything to prove, Buck.”

“You could say I’m following hope,” Bucky says. His easy smile turns hard around the edges, the cheer leaving his eyes. He hesitates, letting out a dry laugh. “And looking for a bit of redemption.”

 

 

 

When Steve wakes again Loki is gone. The ship has stopped, the rest of them awake now. He shifts to sit up, the blanket sliding off him to pool in his lap. Rocket’s sorting through the remaining weapons and ammo. Steve looks to Bucky who seems to be keeping watch, eyes pasted on his window. There’s a gun in his lap.

A figure approaches from the left, Bucky placing a hand on his gun. Loki comes close enough that Bucky relaxes, giving him a curt nod. Bucky hands the gun back to Rocket.

“We’ll stop here for tonight,” Bucky says, opening the door. 

Gamora looks up with a serious frown. Her eyes are still puffy from sleep. “We shouldn’t stop.”

“We’re too deep in for them to find us,” Bucky says, dismissing her. “Besides…I’m sure Rocket can get one of these ships working enough for there to be water.”

Rocket’s ears perk up. The exhaustion was evident on his features as well. He squints at the ships around them, nodding towards the largest on their left. “That big sucker over there is one of those hoity-toity five-star hotels in the sky.” He tosses the last ammo pack into the weapon’s bag. “I bet I could re-route the power core in at least one section of it for some decent beds to sleep in.”

Loki clicks his tongue. “And a shower.”

“Hey! Whatever you smell, your highness, is your problem not mine!”

“Rocket…” Gamora says, sounding almost amused. “You’re covered in entrails.”

“Nothing a little spit can’t fix!”

Loki helps Wanda down out of the cabin, the blanket still draped around her shoulders. She keeps hold of his arm as they walk towards the ship. Steve folds the blanket in his lap and climbs out of the ship, making his way around the front. Bucky’s waiting for him, reloading his gun and holstering it to his hip.

“Gamora’s gonna move the ship closer so that it’s less noticeable.” Gamora grips the door, pulling herself up into the driver’s seat. “See if you can find any supplies while we get everything working.”

Steve nods, Bucky and Rocket making their way towards the vessel they’d chosen. Gamora starts the ship up, Steve walking up to the window. She glances down at him. Steve offers the blanket he’s holding. She stares at him for a moment before accepting it, giving him a small nod.

There wasn’t much to find. The ship itself was massive and the halls that weren’t entombed in darkness were easily accessible. Most of the rooms looked as if they’d been raided a while ago. Steve was used to it. This world was about making due with what there was so what little he could gather in his arms was carried with him. Wanda and Loki trail behind him, Loki smiling sharply whenever Steve turns to look at them. He didn’t offer to carry anything, the girl at least taking a few items with her. She clings to Loki’s arm the entire time. Steve’s surprised he doesn’t brush her away.

He's almost disappointed that he can’t share Bucky’s enthusiasm for how interesting all of this was. Alien technology and weapons and ships. The raccoon had said the ship they were in was some kind of hotel and Steve could see it. He just couldn’t quite wrap his mind around how massive it was.

They all meet in a hall that Rocket’s managed to get power to, dropping what they found into a collective pile to sift through.

“Hnnn,” Rocket grumbles, digging through everything. “A surprising amount of towels and bedsheets. What the scavengers are too good for blankets? Don’t they know how frickin’ cold the desert gets?” Steve grunts. “This all the food you found?” Steve narrows his eyes, the raccoon shrugging. “Just asking, big guy, didn’t mean anything by it.”

Steve picks up a towel and some sheets, taking one of the guns as well. “Water?”

“Yeah,” Rocket says, scratching his head. “Had to hook up our own water tank though so take it easy on the bathing thing. Not sure why you meat bags are so concerned. Especially you! How long did you spend in the desert without a fucking bath?”

“Too long.”

Loki smirks. Steve makes his way to the end of the hall, taking the very last room. Rocket shakes his head after him.

“Dumb bastard didn’t even take any food with him.”

“I’d hardly call six protein packs and three ration bars food,” Bucky snorts, picking through them. He sighs, standing and picking up his sniper. “I’ll check the perimeter again. Just stay together.”

“Why does Captain Crazy get his own room?” Rocket asks, placing a hand on his hip.

Bucky turns and quirks a brow. “Probably because he’s used to surviving on his own.”

“Are there enough beds?” Wanda asks softly, now holding Gamora’s arm to keep her steady.

“It’s alright, I’ll take the floor.” Bucky puts on his mask. “If I’m not back by first light you leave without me.”

“I’m sure we won’t be given a choice,” Gamora mumbles.

Loki glances at her, Wanda helping her into the room. Rocket follows after them. He drags what all they had into the room behind him. Loki stays where he's leaning beside the door, looking down the hall where Steve claimed his room. Bucky snorts.

"Not the best idea." Loki arches a brow. "I can't tell if he knows where he is sometimes. So... maybe not the best idea."

"Well," Loki hums. "I've had worse ideas." He flashes Bucky a smile, Bucky shaking his head as he walks past.

 

 

 

Steve steps out of the sonic room, rubbing a towel over his hair. He twitches. His skin crawls. Unwelcome eyes watching him. He looks up to find Loki stretched out on the bed, head propped up with one arm. His shirt seems to be missing. Steve chooses to ignore him, walking naked across the room. A smile teases the corners of Loki’s mouth. He arches a brow.

“You used to be shy.” Steve continues ignoring him. He tosses the towel on the floor and runs a hand through his hair to push it back. Loki rolls onto his back, tucking both arms behind his head. “It’s odd seeing you like this, Rogers. All rugged and mildly insane.” Loki licks his lips. “What happened to the golden Brooklyn boy? The perfect Avenger?”

He straightens up and turns to glare at his intruder. “Did you hide my clothes?”

Loki grins. “Perhaps I’ve thrown them out into the desert.”

Steve picks the towel back up and wraps it around his waist. Loki throws out his bottom lip into a fake pout. He chuckles to himself as Steve sits down on the opposite bed and rummages through some of the things he’d scavenged. Steve pulls out a sheet and begins tearing it with his teeth. He inspects the wound on his arm—the one from Loki’s knife—attempting to wrap the cloth around using one hand and his teeth. Loki clicks his tongue.

He sits up, tucking his legs under him and shifting aside. “Come here.”

Steve eyes him warily before standing and moving to the other bed. Loki takes the sheet from him, tearing more bandages meticulously while Steve watches him. He lifts Steve’s arm gently and wraps the bandage around the wound, tying it off. Loki lifts Steve’s hand and inspects his bloody knuckles. He wraps them up, grazing his thumb over them. Loki stands, walking towards the sonic room, Steve listening to the sound of water. He sighs. Loki’s face was thinner than he remembered. More pallid. His hair seemed longer as well. Loki sits back down on the bed, damp sheet in hand, gently dabbing at the bruises on Steve’s side.

“So,” Steve says, breaking their silence. “When did you lose your…?” He trails off, realizing the implications of it being a sensitive subject.

Loki doesn’t look up. “When did I lose my seiðr?” Steve doesn’t answer. “Whenever I woke up in this hell of a Reality. All I really know is that any—magic, as you’d say—doesn’t seem to exist. Everything is perfectly balanced.” He doesn’t bother masking the venom in his tone, eyes growing dark. Steve winces, Loki pulling back his hand. But Steve grabs it before it retreats too far. 

He lifts it, inspecting Loki’s bruised knuckles. Steve presses his lips to them. Loki lifts his brow in question. He looks at his face, reaching out to brush his fingers over the wound from Gamora.

“I suppose you don’t heal like you used to.”

Loki chuckles softly. “I was never very good at healing to begin with.” Steve smiles. Loki pulls away, picking up the bandages and slowly wrapping them around Steve’s waist where the bruising was darkest. He ties it off, hands lingering on Steve’s stomach. 

“You feel different. Not as soft,” Loki hums, fingers almost tickling where they were running over his abdomen. “We met like this, you know. Similar situations. The roles were reversed though.”

“I remember.”

Steve feels his face grow hot. There were never very many tender moments between them. But the ones they had—the ones Steve remembers—he’s not even sure they ever happened. Loki fell into his life inconveniently, just like now, needing his help and too stubborn to admit it.

It’s different this time though. There’s a bitterness to it. One Steve can taste in the back of his throat.

“You left,” Steve says before he can stop himself.

Loki traces his fingers gently over every curve and line of Steve’s stomach, following the lines up to his chest. He meets Steve’s eyes, Steve’s breath catching in his throat. There were only ever glimpses of moments where Loki’s face, his real face, was ever bared to Steve. Always guarded. He wasn’t sure if it had to do with Loki’s magic or something purely Loki.

Seeing him without any of his masks…open-faced and bright-eyed laced with an anxiety, a fear that Steve understood in that moment.

“I had to.”

Loki rests his hands on Steve’s shoulders. His fingers massage gently into the muscle. They sit like that, staring at each other, Steve unsure where to put his hands. Unsure what this was. And then Loki’s kissing him, hands running up his neck into Steve’s hair.

Steve kisses him back. Teeth and tongue and a surging instinct to throw Loki down and devour him. Loki’s nails scrape his scalp, his teeth nipping Steve’s bottom lip. Steve grabs Loki’s waist and digs his thumbs into his sides, Loki letting out a breathy gasp. He swings his legs over Steve’s hips, settling onto Steve’s lap. Loki bites into the underside of his jaw, sucking hard, Steve’s whole body shuddering. He pulls away, breathy and flushed, the color high on his cheeks. Loki’s tongue flicks over where one of Steve’s teeth had caught his lip.

“You can have me, you know,” is all he has to say before Steve is rolling him onto his back, lips locked over his.

The towel is quickly pushed aside. Steve’s pulse jumps in his throat, Loki taking his cock in hand. It fills under Loki’s teasing ministrations, Steve groaning into their kiss. Slender fingers work up and down his cock, the pressure building at the base of his spine. His thigh presses between Loki’s to find Loki’s straining arousal still trapped.

He shoves Loki back, pulling his pants off in one swift movement and tossing them aside. There’s a breathless laugh, Steve pressing his face into Loki’s stomach to bite and kiss at his flesh. His tongue laves over him, pleased by the clean taste of sweat. Steve takes his time kissing his way back up to Loki’s mouth. He relishes the small mewls and groans he draws out of him. Steve’s nose bumps against one of Loki’s peaked nipples, swirling his tongue around the pebbled bud. Loki arches off the bed and shudders. His cock rubs against Steve’s stomach and they both groan, Loki dragging him up to crash their mouths back together.

Their bodies twine together, two unlikely pieces that the universe—deciding in some curious judgment—fit together. Loki grabs at him, desperate, hips rocking up into his. His skin thrums with a pleasure that’s intoxicating. Just as it always was. Loki’s presence alone overwhelming and leaving Steve’s nerves fit to bursting.

“If I had my way,” Loki says, breathless and still far too cocky, “it would be you on your back and me riding your cock.” He licks a stripe up Steve’s neck, nails digging into his back. “Too bad I don’t know where you’ve been. You always had such a beautiful cock.”

Steve huffs. “And you were always chatty.”

Loki laughs.

His legs are hiked up and wrapped around Steve’s waist. They rut against each other like animals, cocks catching as they rub together. Loki’s nails scrape down his back. There are scratches and welts. Bruises blooming. Breath shared in pants and gasps. Steve grips Loki’s hips, holding him down, humping him into the mattress as he squirms, biting at every inch of Steve’s neck.

Every movement aches. His side throbs from the squeeze of Loki’s thighs. Pale and long like the rest of him. In another life, another time—he should’ve taken the time to worship them. Every inch of him. Marking his inner thighs with bruises. Laving his cock with his tongue. They could’ve spent hours tangled together, fucking each other into oblivion. Rutting into each other erratic and uneven, leaking against their stomachs and hips, taking their time. Knowing they still had tomorrow.

Steve spats in his hand, taking both their cocks, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer with the hot press of Loki’s cock against his. He strokes once, twice, and it’s perfect—Steve cresting over the edge with a groan and Loki’s tongue in his ear.

Loki moans his name and it’s gorgeous, his head flopping back into the bed. Steve sits up, keeping Loki’s cock in hand, using his spend as slick. Loki whines, legs still wrapped around Steve’s waist. His spent cock twitches weakly at the sight of him. Flushed from the chest up and mouth open, pupils blown wide. Steve rubs his thumb over the leaking head of his cock, Loki letting out a whine, his hips lifting off the bed.

He remembered him. He knew who he was. For a short amount of time—he knew him better than the others ever did. But it was never enough. If he was going to have to remember him, it was going to be like this.

“You’re beautiful,” Steve sighs.

And then it’s over. Loki trembles through his orgasm, shouting as he spurts across their stomachs. Steve collapses on top of him, mouthing at his neck. Loki laughs lightly. “I’m going to need to use the sonic again.”

Steve doesn’t show any signs of moving but Loki doesn’t complain.

He sighs as Steve presses his face into his neck, Loki running his fingers through Steve’s hair. They lay like that, tangled together, breathing heavily, Loki practically purring with content. He hums, pressing his nose to Steve’s hair. 

“I missed you, Rogers.”

Steve presses a kiss to his neck. Loki’s pulse flutters under his lips.


End file.
